Blood Beneath the Moon
Then he slowly raised his sword.
"So if you're calling yourselves mercenaries..."
His voice wasn't loud.
Yet somehow, in the dead silence of the forest, it felt heavier than a roar.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Then at least show me some pride before you die."
A cold wind drifted through the clearing.
Above them, the moon hung silently in the sky, pale and distant. Under its dim light, Victor's figure somehow looked darker than the night itself. His black hair swayed gently with the wind, and those golden eyes reflected the fear spreading across the faces before him.
Silence.
A suffocating silence.
Nobody moved.
Nobody wanted to move.
Sweat slowly slid down one mercenary's neck.
Another tightened his grip on his sword, only to realize his fingers had already started trembling.
Someone swallowed nervously.
Someone took half a step back.
Fear had already entered their hearts.
Then—
"RUN!"
