Inside the Silver Crest Guild headquarters, panic had reached a boiling point.
Guild members paced back and forth across the hall, their footsteps restless and uneven.
No one dared to breathe too loudly.
Even the faint sound of armor shifting felt unbearably sharp in the suffocating silence.
Some rested their hands on the hilts of their weapons, fingers twitching as if ready to draw at any moment.
Yet none of them found the comfort they desperately sought.
Their hearts pounded heavily in their chests.
Fear crawled along their skin like living insects.
Blood ran cold through their veins.
Perspiration gathered on brows and trickled down temples, soaking collars and gloves.
Plans crumbled.
Motivation vanished into thin air.
The courage they once believed they possessed shattered completely, revealed to be nothing more than a fragile illusion. Only now did they truly understand how dreadful the Grim Reaper was.
You would never understand it until you felt it yourself.
