Sol planted the tip of the Dreadwing Blade into the bedrock and leaned both hands against the leather pommel. When he spoke, his voice carried effortlessly across the entire battlefield, amplified by the faint atmospheric resonance of his Dreadwing bloodline.
"I'm feeling strangely generous today."
The words cut through the silence immediately.
"Here is your one and only offer," Sol announced, neon-crimson eyes sweeping slowly over the shivering enemy host. "Lay down your weapons. Drop your armor. Fall to your knees and surrender yourselves unconditionally as prisoners to the Veynar clan. Do it now… and I let you keep breathing."
He paused, letting the weight of the choice settle over them.
"Refuse…" His eyes hardened. "And I will finish what I started with the Zharun."
For a few long seconds, no one moved.
