Chapter 137: Fear Itself
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The moment the last echo of the gates dying groan faded into silence, Arthur began to walk forward. No rush. No fear. Just quiet steps his boots tapping against ancient stone, each footfall soaked in shadow.
The wind bent around him. The Demon King's Longsword trailed faint streaks of blue lightning as it hummed in his grip, hungry. Arthur's eyes gleamed with cold fire.
The giants at least a dozen watched the lone figure advance. Colossal warriors dressed in blackened steel and old magic, carved by the dungeon's will. They stood like moving mountains, their weapons larger than buildings, their voices like thunder.
One of them moved.
A tower of muscle and iron, with a sword the size of a bus clutched in both fists. It let out a roar like a crashing avalanche and charged each step a tremor, the giant raised its blade high above Arthur, intending to crush the insect daring to tread into their sacred domain.