Blown

As soon as the grandmaster gestured for Atticus to enter, he stepped forward without hesitation and pushed the door open.

The moment he walked through the open doorway, it felt as though he had entered a different world.

The air was dense, almost crushing in its weight, as if the atmosphere itself was thick with power. Any normal person below the rank of grandmaster would have been overwhelmed, perhaps even suffocated by the sheer pressure in the room.

Seated around him were 15 individuals, their auras barely contained, yet screaming of the raw and primal power that simmered deep inside them.

Their eyes were closed, hands resting near their weapons, and though none of them moved, the room was engulfed with killing intent.

It was as if Atticus had walked into the lair of predators, the kind of place where even the air itself threatened to tear you apart.

Each of these figures was a force to be reckoned with, the apex of their race: