Chapter 155: King Theron’s Threat
A desperate hope flickered in the eyes of the Elves with their question. They knew from the moment they witnessed his ability to fly that this human was no ordinary mage.
He was a Sovereign and undoubtedly the human king. But they also believed in their own Queen, confident that she would teach this audacious human a lesson.
As King Theron slowly stroked his neatly trimmed mustache, his eyes glinted with a cruel amusement.
"Very well," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that sent shivers down their spines.
"Call her. But understand this: I will kill one of you for each time I count to two hundred until I see her. One of you may go. The rest will stay."
The words hung in the air, a chilling promise. The Elves’ faces were drained of all color, and a collective gasp of terror escaped their lips.
All of them, suddenly taken by the instinct for survival, desperately wanted to be the one to escape.
The moment he finished his sentence, they all lunged forward, scrambling to be the one to dash towards the safety of the interior.
Unfortunately for them, Theron’s aura, previously a mere sensation of dread, now pressed down with the crushing weight of a mountain.
Four of the five Elves instantly crumpled, their legs giving out, faces pale with horror as they found themselves pinned to the ground, utterly immobile.
Only one, a swift female Elf, had managed to dart forward with the aid of a light-based spell, a desperate burst of speed propelling her towards the outpost’s main entrance.
"I said only one," Theron intoned, his voice echoing eerily. "And all of you were far too slow."