The arena went silent, only the heavy sound of Ruth's footsteps echoing as he rose from his seat. His eyes were sharp and full of heat, but his face remained cold, stripped of any softness.
The killing intent rolling off him was suffocating, thick enough to choke the strongest men in the stands. It was not wild or uncontrolled but heavy, precise, and deliberate. It spread like a cold blade across everyone's neck, making their skin prickle and their senses scream in fury.
Gasps broke out through the crowd. Nobles and knights who were used to seeing bloodshed still felt their hearts tighten under that oppressive aura. Many covered their mouths in shock, their eyes fixed on Ruth as if unable to look away. Children clung to their parents, trembling as if death itself had passed over them. The killing intent was sharp enough to drown the cheers and laughter that once filled the arena.
"What is going on?" Duke Serpentine stood suddenly, his face pale as he stared at Ruth.
