Anton took deep, controlled breaths, forcing his racing heart to slow.
His hands trembled slightly, a lingering cold sweat forming at his brow.
The sensation he had felt moments ago—
It wasn't normal.
It wasn't something that could be easily dismissed.
For a brief, fleeting instant—
It had felt as though death itself had brushed past his throat.
Not with a blade.
Not with an attack.
But with something far worse.
A force so absolute, so overwhelming, that his entire being had screamed at him to run.
To escape.
But he couldn't.
Because it was already gone.
The air was still.
The fight had ended.
But Anton…
He was still shaken.
His mind spun, struggling to piece things together.
'What was that? Who was that?'
The masked figure who had dominated the battlefield with ease.
The man who had stood unshaken against the Crown Prince, Amelia, Revenna, and even the top geniuses of the South.
