Silence descended.
The abrupt absence of sound was more jarring than the cataclysmic crash that had preceded it. Rain continued its ceaseless patter against shattered glass and fractured asphalt, a steady metallic rhythm that now seemed unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet. Distant fires sputtered as they died out beneath the rain, their orange light fading into weak smoke that drifted lazily across the ruined street.
Every hunter still standing on Orchard Road was frozen.
Some were mid-stride, boots splashing in shallow pools of rainwater and black blood. Others stood with their heads tilted upward, necks locked in the act of staring toward the sky where the Troll King had fallen only moments earlier. Weapons remained clutched loosely in tired hands. A few hunters had lowered their blades entirely without realizing it. The collective gasp that had risen from hundreds of throats still seemed to hang in the humid, smoke-filled air, unfinished.
They all stared at the same place.
