Walking out of the Crimson Arc Guild headquarters, every remaining guild member instinctively turned their gaze toward the Grim Reaper.
Their expressions were grim, their breaths shallow.
Did he kill our guild master?
What are we supposed to do now?
I knew it! Getting close to a monster like that could never end well.
Each of them wrestled with conflicting thoughts, yet not a single person dared to voice them aloud.
Fear clamped down on their minds like a vice, squeezing out courage and reason alike.
Many of them stared fixedly at the heavy wooden door behind Thoren, barely blinking, as though they expected blood to seep through the cracks at any moment.
Some swallowed hard, already preparing themselves for the worst. Their guild master had been slaughtered inside, or worse, turned into one of the undead servants that now followed Thoren like loyal shadows.
If anything remained of him at all.
Yet, contrary to their expectations, the wooden door creaked open once more.
