Gulp!
The Iron Dungeon stronghold leader swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing like a cork in a stormy sea. Every instinct screamed at him to kneel, to beg, to vanish into the cracks in the stone floor before the youth standing before him decided to obliterate him with a flick of the wrist.
Iron rank? He might have been called that on paper, but this young man's strength… it defied understanding.
The leader didn't know exactly how powerful Damien was—but he knew this: survival hinged on complete, unquestioning obedience.
With a tremble running through his spine like a live wire, he forced his lips into a stiff, serviceable smile.
"T-They're here only for honored guests…"
The words were delivered with all the sincerity of a man trying to offer his soul in exchange for mercy. As he spoke, he bent slightly at the waist, as if this act of servitude was not only routine—but sacred.
