The tension in the air was almost palpable, saturated with burning mana and icy determination. Isaac stared at Akane, his fists clenched around the hilt of his katana until his knuckles turned white, his heart hammering in his chest in a desperate rhythm. In front of him, the warrior stood upright, motionless like a marble statue, her eyes once sparkling with life now empty, absent, like two bottomless pits. Her movements, jerky and mechanical, betrayed the cruel grip of the slave collar encircling her neck like a metallic serpent. The blade in her hand glowed faintly, a silver reflection dancing on the cracked ground like a grim omen.