Antorus' eyes widened in shock as the overwhelming aura of the Xaos King crashed down upon him.
The first time he had seen Vlad had been less than two decades ago, when the young man came to rescue Freya.
Back then, the Xaos King had been nothing more than an ant in his eyes. A potential nuisance, perhaps, but not one worth crushing. Doing so would have risked angering the former Empress and the White Death, and for what? A nameless upstart with ambition but no real weight.
And now?
That same "ant" was marching toward him after slaughtering every corrupted warrior in the capital, stripping Valhalla of its sacrifices, and—far worse—severely wounding his master. The shadow looming above the capital writhed in pain, its presence destabilized, its grip weakened.
The realization was terrifying.
And infuriating.
Rage swallowed Antorus whole.
