The usurper General's patience snapped.
He had watched enough.
Everywhere he looked, the masked commander was there. Lines crumpled where he stepped. Entire clusters of seasoned soldiers vanished under invisible compression. Momentum that should have crushed Valerion instead dissolved into hesitation and fear.
If that man remained unchecked, the battle would be lost.
The General tore his helmet from his head and cast it aside. His aura surged outward in a violent wave, forcing nearby soldiers...friend and foe alike...to stagger back. The air thickened around him, heavy with authority.
A third stage Sage cultivator.
Power rolled off him in crushing layers, far denser and more refined than the chaotic bursts exchanged across the battlefield. The ground beneath his boots cracked as he stepped forward, elemental energy gathering around his frame like a brewing storm.
"Enough!" he roared, his voice cutting through steel and screams alike.
Lucas felt it immediately.
Pressure.
