A suffocating stillness spread across the other camp, standing in sharp contrast to the frantic preparations happening on the other side of the battlefield, in Michael's camp. No shouting or disorganized movement here. Only a quiet and controlled anticipation lingered in the air, as if everything had already been decided long before the first clash would begin.
Red stood at the very front, just a few steps before the gate that separated his forces from the open field beyond.
His posture remained completely still. But the space around him felt anything but calm. His head tilted slightly upward, his gaze fixed on the distant sky, as if he was listening to something no one else could hear.
At his side, a short sword rested against his hip.
