The woman on the throne rose with fluid grace, her movement so precise it seemed choreographed. As if triggered by some unspoken command, the six figures seated beside her stood in perfect unison, their movements synchronized with unnerving precision.
She glided forward, each step measured and deliberate. The air around her seemed to shimmer with power, disturbing the very fabric of reality as she moved.
"What took you so long, Veilwalker?" Her voice carried across the chamber like a caress, intimate despite the distance between them.
"Time," Eren replied coldly, the single word carrying the weight of his disdain.
The master's lips curved slightly at his response, seemingly amused rather than offended. The closer she came, the more Eren felt a peculiar pressure building in his chest—a tightness that wasn't quite pain but something deeper and more unsettling.
