Maximus sat on his throne in silence, eyes locked on the image hovering above the communication orb, the monstrous pile of slain beasts stacked like firewood, S-class creatures included, their bodies torn and blackened with arcane precision. The flickering projection bathed the noble council chamber in a cold, eerie light.
Whispers died in their throats as every lord, lady, and mage stared at the scene. Even the usually unshakable Gallahad Ironhart, the kingdom's pride and Hero of the Silver War, swallowed hard.
The king turned slowly, his voice tight. "Can you do that, Gallahad? Lord Silas? Lord Ulysses?"
Silas exhaled, shoulders taut. "I can handle a single A-rank… perhaps one S-rank. But that—" he gestured toward the image, "—a full stampede, wiped out in under an hour? That's not something a court mage does. That's a walking calamity."
Ulysses simply nodded in grim agreement, his eyes narrowed. "And to think, I once demanded a duel with her."
