Perched atop the tree like a predator surveying its prey stood a man—tall, imposing, and radiant in knight armor polished to a dark steel hue.
His armor shimmered subtly under the broken light filtering through the forest canopy. His dark hair was slicked back neatly, a sharp contrast to the wild chaos of the battlefield below. Eyes darker than storm clouds peered down with a chilling clarity, scanning the scene with utter calm.
He looked like a war god descended.
Every movement he made seemed precise, intentional, terrifyingly still. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of a sword sheathed at his side, fingers twitching slightly as if measuring every heartbeat below.
The mercenaries and bandits stood paralyzed in awe and fear. Their earlier rage and confusion had turned into silence. No one dared speak.
