The moment Borv's body collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, a strange stillness spread across the battlefield, as if even the wind itself had forgotten how to move, as if the very air had been forced into silence by what had just happened.
No one spoke.
No one even dared to move.
The soldiers, the archers, even the Captain who had faced countless battles and witnessed countless deaths, all stood frozen in place, their eyes locked onto the unconscious figure of Borv lying there, his body limp, his presence completely gone, as if the strength that once filled him had never existed in the first place.
And then, slowly, their gazes moved.
They shifted from Borv… to Clay.
The young man who stood there calmly, as if what he had just done was nothing more than brushing dust off his shoulder.
The Captain swallowed hard, his throat dry.
"What… what just happened…?"
