Who’s next?

"Good. Very good," Craig murmured, a cold, satisfied smile gracing his face as his golden eyes meticulously dissected Ser Liyen's combat posture.

The young knight's form was taut as a bowstring, his center of gravity perfectly balanced, and his emerald mana humming with intense concentration.

He was a man who had drawn a sharp line in his own mind—a line where fear ended and absolute focus took over.

Craig reached down and unsheathed his weapon. Instead of a heavy military broadsword, he drew a slender, double-edged arming sword.

The polished steel caught the overhead torchlight, gleaming like a thin sliver of moonlight.

The instant his gloved fingers tightened around the leather-bound hilt, something deep within Craig's soul snapped into place.

His eyes flickered, the dark golden irises glowing with a brief, terrifying radiance.