Suddenly, Clay says, "So all of you are here. Now, tell me, are you going to do what I want you to do? Who knows what you did to these beasts. It would disturb my sleep and relaxing moment, and that's all."
His voice carried across the broken battlefield, rising past the shattered walls of the border town, piercing through the dimensional crack that still lingered in the sky like a wound that refused to close. The air itself seemed to listen. The remnants of dust floated slowly, as if even the wind did not dare to interrupt him.
On the other side of the crack, the gathered Warchiefs stood in silence for a moment. They looked at one another. Their expressions were not calm. They were not confident. There was hesitation in their eyes, and something deeper beneath it. Something that did not belong to beings who ruled entire tribes through strength alone.
Seeing that they were silent again, Clay smirked.
"What?"
