When Orion first placed the Slaughter Tyrant, the biological construct was already punching at an Alpha-level weight class.
But that was years ago.
Fueled by the exponential growth of the Stoneheart Horde and fed a steady diet of Faith Energy, the Slaughter Tyrant had evolved. It was now a bona fide Arch Lord.
It was one of the Horde's best-kept secrets.
Sure, it had limitations—it was tethered to Blackstone City and its power fluctuated with the reserve of Faith Energy—but as a defensive trump card, it was terrifying. If an enemy Arch Lord had stepped foot near the northern territories, the Slaughter Tyrant would have already been active, its kill-protocols engaged.
So, Dirtclaw was certain. Whatever fear Kronos was feeling, it wasn't coming from an external threat.
"I... I just thought I..." Kronos stammered, his face pale. "Never mind."
He swallowed the words. How could he say it?
Hey, Sir Dirtclaw, I think I just heard my dad roaring inside my spleen.
