Thoren stood at the edge of the shattered chamber, watching the carnage unfold with an expressionless face.
Blood soaked the ancient stone floor, pooling in cracks and grooves carved by time. Broken bodies lay scattered in grotesque positions, limbs twisted at unnatural angles, faces frozen in terror.
The metallic stench of blood clung heavily to the air, thick enough to taste with every breath.
Yet none of it stirred Thoren's emotions.
The desperate situation of the awakeners, their screams and pleas, the way their lives were snuffed out one after another did not shock him in the slightest.
After all, this outcome had been inevitable.
If the first chamber alone had housed Level 14 Stonewall Tribe noble warriors and even a Level 16 High Noble, how could the lower levels possibly be any safer?
This place was never meant to be survived by the weak.
"P-Please… help me…"
A trembling female voice broke through the chaos.
Thoren's gaze shifted.
