The silence on the frozen battlements was absolute. Even the northern wind seemed to hold its breath.
I stared at the golden carriage down below, my hands gripping the cold stone parapet. The Imperial Scribe was shivering, completely terrified, holding the golden scroll out as if it were a shield.
Then, the stone beneath my hands began to vibrate.
It started as a low, deep rumble, like an earthquake waking up deep inside the mountain. I looked to my left.
Akira was no longer frozen in shock. He was completely, terrifyingly furious.
The Warlord aura didn't just flare—it erupted. A massive, suffocating wave of blue yokai fire exploded from his shoulders, whipping into the air like a localized storm. The heat radiating off his body was so intense that the snow gathering on the parapet instantly turned to steam. His amber eyes lost their pupils entirely, glowing with a pure, demonic wrath.
