Inside the Drakhor Race's war hall, many powerful warriors frowned at the same time.
The ancient Drakhor tongue was not some language they used casually.
It was old.
Most Drakhor only used it during war chants, bloodline prayers, ancestor ceremonies, or before a great battle to honor Drakhar.
No one used it in the middle of a fight.
Especially not while surrounded by enemy ships and livestreaming across the entire Astral Cosmic Civilization.
One Drakhor warrior narrowed his eyes. "Why is that kid speaking the ancient tongue now?"
Another frowned. "Is he praying to Drakhar?"
The massive elder did not answer.
His eyes remained locked on Rovak.
For some reason, the blood inside his body was starting to stir.
On the livestream, Rovak floated in the middle of burning wreckage and drifting blood.
The pirate fleet had already surrounded him from every direction, but Rovak did not look worried at all.
Instead, his grin became wider.
