The entire village felt the same despair as the twins.
Hope snuffed out.
Darkness closing in.
But not everyone mourned.
At the edge of the firelight, Julius stood with his hands clasped behind his back, a grin slowly spreading across his face.
It worked.
Everything had gone perfectly.
The Hero was leaving.
The village was his again.
He couldn't hide his satisfaction anymore—his lips curved into the widest, most smug smile he'd ever worn.
'So this is what true power feels like.'
The thought thrilled him, sending a shiver up his spine.
He'd done what no one else could.
Forced the Hero himself to leave.
A man chosen by the Goddess, a savior from another world, someone who could topple empires—and he had driven him away.
He could feel the rush of control spreading through him.
'If I can make a being like that bow to my will…what chance does anyone else have?'
He imagined the elven elders kneeling, the other races whispering his name in reverence and fear.
