[: 3rd POV :]
All of the sudden, Arcturus lifted both arms high above his head.
His voice, now reverberating with an unnatural echo, carried through the stone like a hymn of madness.
"O Great Apocalypse King…" he intoned, his head bowing low, his hands trembling with fervor.
"I, your loyal servant, offer unto you the finest harvest yet—hundreds of high rankers, brave and strong, led willingly by my hand into your holy slaughter!"
The words stabbed into the hearts of the mercenaries and guild members like icy blades.
Betrayal had already shattered them—but this was blasphemy, madness beyond measure.
Gasps and curses tore from the group.
"You led us here… just to kill us?!" the dwarf roared, his voice trembling with rage, though his legs shook beneath him.
"You damned traitor!" the silver-haired elf spat, her bowstring drawn though her hands quivered uncontrollably.
But Arcturus only laughed, a low, broken sound that crawled into their bones.
