THE ALPHA'S NAUGHTY LITTLE CHRISTMAS GIFT.
Every eye in the courtyard turns toward him, some kneeling because they choose to, most because their bodies have simply stopped offering any other option.
His voice carries without effort, filling every corner of the ruined battlefield at once.
"For centuries," he says, "wolves have bowed to weakness." A pause, long enough to let the words settle into the silence he's built around himself. "No longer." He spreads both arms, the orb beneath his chest pulsing bright enough to throw long shadows across the stone. "Today, the Grandmaster is born."
Nobody speaks. Not one voice rises to meet his.
"Beacon Hill will no longer defend this world." His mouth curves, slow and certain. "It will rule it.
Bab Populer