Far in the back, William and the soldiers watched the scene with wide eyes, horror creeping into their hearts. "Is Master Haikal... a human or a demon?" whispered the team captain, his voice trembling, his throat dry.
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"That old man lives up to the rumors. Some acquaintances said his dark magic was extraordinary... and now I truly believe it," muttered a disheveled blonde-haired soldier, his blue eyes filled with dread as he stared at the sky. The figure of Haikal Emanuel controlled the black spears effortlessly, like a conductor leading a symphony of death.
The other soldiers' eyes were fixed, standing still as if facing a living nightmare. There was a faint sense of gratitude among them, though subtle—thankful they were still breathing. But fear pierced deeper. Haikal Emanuel, the old man with the cold smile, was a real threat that sent chills down their spines.