Just as Darius was watching the resentment creatures fade into the fog one by one, his expression suddenly changed.
His brow furrowed. His gaze snapped to the depths of the mist, eyes narrowing with sharp instinct. Something was coming. Something wrong.
The shift in his demeanor didn't go unnoticed.
After all, those gathered here were no strangers to war. Each one of them was battle-hardened—veterans of death and silence, attuned to danger like wolves in the wild.
They felt it too.
A subtle pressure. A crawling sensation on the back of the neck. An oppressive stillness, as if the air itself was bracing for something dreadful.
And then—
Felicia stiffened.
Her amethyst eyes narrowed sharply, and her voice came cold and clipped:
"Everyone stay alert. Something's coming... I can sense it. A lot of them."
She was always the first to notice.
