And now that Sol stood within the very heart of the Zharun tribe, surrounded by the people who had lived through that day, he intended to verify every single word, just to be sure.
Sol walked into the central square. His heavy, steady footsteps over the gravel instantly drew the terrified eyes of the kneeling Zharun civilians.
Even though they had just saved them and all of them were very grateful to them, but still seeing Sol, whose entire body radiated that deep and thick killing intent, they all were terrified and didn't dared to look in his eyes.
Whenever Sol's crimson gaze swept past a group, people flinched, trembling fiercely.
Sol stopped near a row of overturned water barrels where several Zharun women were gathered under the watch of a Veynar sentry. He approached a middle-aged woman sitting near the edge, her coarse linen tunic torn at the shoulder and stained with soot, her hands trembled as she wrapped a torn shawl around a frightened child.
