None of them replied. Not Vacuse or Drenvar.
They stared at the Commander together, but they did not react. Instead, the Dragon Lord stood up and raised his hand. He reached out into empty space as if he were trying to grasp something, and his ring shone in answer.
A sword suddenly appeared in his hand. The sword was a thin longsword with red rust, as if it had been dipped in blood for most of its lifespan.
But what was astonishing about the blood was that, immediately upon appearing, it sent out pressure that weighed down on the surroundings. The pressure felt like small blades digging into their flesh, making everyone twitch.
Everyone knew instinctively that the sword was a dangerous weapon.
Drenvar looked at everyone calmly. "I am going to war. I will not force any of you to fight with me. But I will note how each and every one of you fights.
"I will reward you and punish you later, depending on how things turn out."
