The terrifying pressure slowly dissipated, and the crimson mist also gradually vanished.
When everyone's vision was restored, only Charlotte remained in the center of the unrecognizable battlefield.
The broken sword of the Troll Knute still lay not far off.
His presence, however, had completely disappeared.
And where he had once stood, only a few scraps of leather armor remained, along with a small patch of ashes, as if consumed by flames.
Quiet.
Deathly quiet.
Just now, Charlotte's swelling aura was terrifying, and that will and pressure, like divine wrath, were immensely vast.
Even the slowest to realize understood that Troll Knute had "met his match"; the battle that seemed once "evenly matched" was merely the girl who had abruptly appeared on the battlefield not exerting her full strength.
And now, as she finally unleashed her own power, everything was over.
As for the Troll Knute's final cry of horror before his death...
