In another continent far beyond the reach of the Holy Kingdom, the Warchief of the Bersuka Tribe stood unmoving before the massive projection that revealed everything happening in the distant northern border.
For a moment, he said nothing.
His broad chest rose slowly.
Then fell.
Then rose again.
And suddenly—
He roared. A roar so loud that the ground beneath him cracked, the stone floor splitting apart as if it could not withstand the weight of his fury, the pillars surrounding the chamber trembling violently as the very air twisted under the pressure of his voice.
"BORZOI!" His voice thundered across the hall like a storm breaking loose, his eyes blazing with rage as he pointed toward the projection where Borzoi stood, now bound by an oath he could never escape.
"You useless brat! You let yourself be tricked like this?!"
