"Why now?" Greg muttered, his voice dropping to a cold, controlled whisper that felt more dangerous than if he had shouted. The chill in his tone sent a ripple of tension through the room. Everyone turned to face him, uncertain what to make of the sudden shift in his expression.
To most, Greg was always composed—calculating, even. But now, something was different. Something darker had stirred.
"To think… they actually managed to finish creating the shadow slaves despite the collapse of the Empire," Chris said, rubbing the back of his head, trying to grasp the weight of what they were hearing. His words carried a hint of disbelief, his voice uncharacteristically subdued.
