Asher's purple eyes were ice cold at this moment. His gaze swept across the entire battlefield with detached precision, observing every presence gathered before him. The weakest among them stood at the Brightstar Life Rank, while the strongest had reached the Firmstar Life Rank.
Their numbers barely exceeded a hundred, yet to Asher, none of that held the slightest significance. Rank, quantity, experience, it was all meaningless. They would die all the same.
His hand moved toward Virelass' hilt, which rested quietly at his waist as though it too were waiting. The instant his fingers brushed against the weapon, the atmosphere shifted. The air on the battlefield thickened almost palpably, pressure mounting as aura surged violently outward.
The invisible force pressed down upon everyone present, suffocating and oppressive. Conversations died mid-breath. Even the wind seemed to falter. Silence stretched between them like a taut wire ready to snap.
And then it did.
