Octavio's eyes widened in horror. Terror filled every inch of his being as he stared at the incoming blades, realizing there was no way to escape. Death was mere heartbeats away, his body frozen, his soul bracing for the end. The swords were moments from piercing his flesh when—
"Hmph."
A single sound echoed across the land.
It was soft, barely more than a breath, but the sheer power it carried was overwhelming. The blades, mid-air and moments from their mark, shattered—fragmenting into glittering dust that disintegrated before they could touch the earl. But that was not all. The sound reverberated through space like a celestial gong, crashing into Vlad with the force of a tidal wave.
The True Depravita of Wrath was launched backward—hundreds of meters—his body tumbling through the air like a discarded doll before slamming into the earth. Blood spilled from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to regain his footing, stunned by the sheer pressure.
