The air in the hall had grown hard and heavy. Severin's eyes were like a pair of razor-sharp blades, cutting through the air and boring into him. Even his aura felt sharp, like countless needles constantly stabbing into Zephyrion's body.
Still, Zephyrion refused to look away, meeting Severin's gaze head-on. If such a thing were possible, there would probably be sparks flying between them by now.
Then, Severin slowly tilted his head, his eyes growing dangerously cold, almost as though he couldn't quite believe that a mere child dared to meet his gaze.
'So heavy…'
Severin's aura was steadily bearing down on him, forcing his knees to slowly buckle. Unlike Cassian's killing intent, this was pure aura. And though he wasn't a member of the Ten Thrones, Severin was still a dynasty head, a full-blown Dominion rank. If he increased the pressure even slightly, Zephyrion knew he would be forced to his knees.
