Rowan jolted upright as his pressure erupted, shaking the entire castle.
The bed shattered beneath him.
He landed lightly on the ground, reached for his sword, and exhaled slowly.
"…Looks like I slept a bit too long," Rowan muttered. "This is why I hate using skills that drain my energy."
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, steadying himself. The pallor that had drained from his lips was gone—color returning as his breathing evened out.
"My father… my mother… everyone here has already fallen unconscious," Rowan said quietly. "The pressure released by that demon and Fenrir is far too much for ordinary humans. If this continues any longer, they'll die—simply because they can't breathe."
His eyes opened.
In the next instant, he flew through the shattered window, descending calmly toward the battlefield below.
Valzaha looked up.
A wide grin split his face.
