Who is going to pay with their souls?! Tell me!
Caelen's voice tore through the Punishment Zone like a thunderclap, shaking the ground beneath their feet.
His eyes glowed fiercely, burning with rage—no, something deeper. His aura exploded outward like a shockwave, a spectral blue flame swirling violently around him. The guards, once so sure of themselves, began to tremble. Their knees weakened. Their hands holding weapons quivered.
Even the air shifted.
Draven took a cautious step forward, extending his hand toward Caelen.
"Calm down—"
Slice!
His hand never made it.
Blood sprayed in an arc as Draven's right hand was severed clean off before he could even blink. He screamed, stumbling back in agony, clutching his bleeding wrist. The severed hand dropped to the dirt with a wet thud.
Caelen didn't flinch.
His glowing eyes locked onto Draven like death itself.
"Don't touch me… filth."
