For a few seconds, time itself seemed to freeze inside the tavern.
A dead silence.
A suffocating, dead silence.
Only the faint sound of splintered barrels rolling in the corner and dust settling softly broke the stagnant scene.
The thugs who had surrounded them, once radiating killing intent and ferocious expressions, were now frozen in place as if by an unseen Frost.
The mocking, savage, and cold expressions on their faces had yet to fade before they were frozen solid.
In their place was a dazed bewilderment, and from the depths of their pupils, an unconcealable horror and Fear that spread rapidly.
The Ranger with the Short Bow on his back froze, his fingers, resting on the Bowstring, hovering stiffly in mid-air, trembling slightly.
The two tower-like brutes standing in front of Holland instinctively took half a step back. Their heavy breathing sounded unnaturally loud in the silence, the muscles on their bronze faces twitched, and their eyes filled with disbelief.
