I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human

For a long, tense moment, the ten chosen warriors stared at one another across the obsidian field, the world holding its breath around them.

Fenara and Tara locked eyes with a fury that needed no words. Their death stares radiated a silent challenge, daring the other to make the first move. Muscles twitched. Fangs bared. Tension coiled like a drawn bowstring.

Adgrun shifted uncomfortably, his thick arms folded as he stared down the golden Dragonkin. But the scaled warrior refused to return the gaze. Eyes shut, his calm seemed unbreakable, like he was meditating before a meal rather than preparing for war.

To their right, the ogres snarled and growled, their deep, guttural noises rumbling through the earth. It was less language and more instinct, like wild beasts circling before a bloody brawl.

Darfin's gaze flickered between the mountainous giant and the ancient elf standing across from them. His hands flexed. His jaw tightened.

And Lucy... Lucy couldn't take his eyes off Vorn Cain.

Something about the elder elf froze him in place. Lucy didn't know if it was fear, nerves, or something more profound, but his hands trembled, and his breath was shallow and cold.

'What is with this guy?' Lucy thought. 'He's not leaking pressure, but all I feel is death.'

Then, slicing through the standoff, Vorn finally spoke.

"Darfin," the elf said calmly, his voice low and smooth like a ripple across still water, "do you want to take this somewhere else?"

Lucy blinked. 'Huh?'