"So, how does this end?"
The Deputy Commander's voice cut through the tension, cold and detached, like a coroner asking for a time of death. "Do you want them to live, or do you want them dead?"
The mockery in Pyre Julius's laughter died in his throat.
Orion could feel the weight of the gaze from his four brothers—Edward, Leonidas, Arthas, and Alexander. They were watching him, waiting.
This was Orion's war. He had set the stage. The brothers were here as muscle, as support, but the moral burden of the execution lay solely on Orion's shoulders.
"Dead."
Orion's face was a mask of granite. He didn't shout. He didn't hesitate. After a few heavy heartbeats, he simply exhaled the word that sealed the fate of five Demigods.
"Hah! Now that is what I wanted to hear!" Leonidas roared, his laughter booming with savage delight. He loved a man who didn't flinch.
"Good," Alexander rumbled, pouring more Divine Power into the grid. Decisiveness was the only currency that mattered in war.
