The world stopped.
Not metaphorically. Not as exaggeration.
It stopped.
The heat of flames froze mid-air, fragments of stone from a recent explosion simply hovered, as if time itself had bowed. The wind ceased, screams fell silent. Even pain seemed to hesitate, afraid of what was coming next.
Every gaze turned to the center of the ruin… to him.
Kael.
And then, like a breath being sucked into a void—he vanished.
It wasn't teleportation. It wasn't magic.
It was presence.
One moment he was amidst shadows and cinders. The next—he was there, inches from the dark elf still holding Sylphie's hair like a trophy.
The invader didn't see Kael move. No one did.
They only... felt it.
The pressure in the air became unbearable. The sensation was that something colossal and alive had descended from the heavens—as if the universe itself held its breath, terrified of what Kael might do.
The dark elf tried to move. To flee. To summon any defense.
