[: 3rd POV :]
The atmosphere twisted into something far more dreadful.
The rift in the air widened, the blood-red slit eye glaring with a rage that could split worlds.
The walls trembled, cracks spreading like veins along the ground as though reality itself rejected the Sovereign's intrusion.
The mercenaries and guild members, still pinned to the ground by the overwhelming suppression, coughed up blood.
Their eyes widened in despair; they could barely breathe, let alone move.
Every attempt to lift a hand ended in futility as their bones creaked under the crushing weight of the Sovereign's presence.
The air thickened until it burned their lungs.
Their hearts thundered, threatening to burst under the suffocating pressure.
Yet, amidst the despair, Daniel stood unmoving.
No smile played on his lips this time, just a cold, sharp frown that cut deeper than any blade.
His presence itself was a silent defiance.
The eye narrowed, its slit trembling with fury.
