Everyone's eyes turned to him, yet none could hold his gaze for more than a heartbeat.
Although the corrupted Celestials lay slain and the tenth level had been cleared, no one dared to celebrate.
They stared at Aleron in a tense, uneasy silence.
The air around him carried an unbearable chill, a creeping cold that seemed to gnaw directly at the soul.
It was not the kind of cold one could ward off with fire or clothing. It seeped inwards, hollowing the spirit.
Panic whispered through the minds of all present, and despair hung heavy, pressing on them like an invisible weight.
The tenth level of the tower would never be the same.
And it was all because of Aleron.
He turned his piercing gaze toward the group before him. His eyes seemed to cut through the air like sharpened blades.
At this moment, his heart was filled with pure killing intent.
