There it was again.
Not movement.
Not fully.
Not clearly.
But something that should not exist under that kind of pressure.
GrandLord Dreath's eyes narrowed further, the faint trace of satisfaction on his face fading as his attention locked completely onto the Moonshade family.
Because beneath the crushing force that had already flattened everything—
There was resistance.
A trace.
A flicker.
Like embers that refused to die no matter how much weight was pressed upon them.
"…Still…?"
His voice came out lower this time, almost a murmur, yet filled with a seriousness that had not been there before.
Without hesitation—
He increased the pressure again.
Not in steps.
Not gradually.
But in a heavy surge that sank down into the arena like a collapsing sky, multiplying the already overwhelming force into something even more suffocating, more oppressive, more absolute.
The ground cracked deeper.
