The entire guild lurched as Moistvile itself began to tremble. The floorboards groaned, tables rattled, bottles clattered off shelves and shattered. It wasn't just shaking—it was the kind of deep quake that made your stomach feel like it wanted to crawl out your throat.
Conversations died instantly. Fear spread faster than the vibrations. Even the cockiest adventurers went pale as the walls moaned like they might collapse.
Finn instinctively grabbed onto Silvara's shoulders. She glanced at him in irritation but didn't shrug him off, balancing with inhuman steadiness while everyone else scrambled like drunk toddlers on a trampoline.
Across the room it was chaos. Adventurers crashed into villagers, villagers toppled into tables, and one domino effect nearly sent a whole row of chairs collapsing. It was a messy, groaning tangle of limbs.
And in the center of it all stood Big Tim—the human anchor.
