"And then... how's the mission?" Libbie's voice was calm, almost too calm, as his piercing gaze bore into the trembling group before him.
One of the men, his entire body shaking, finally managed to stammer, "W-We apologize, Your Majesty, but—"
Before he could finish, Libbie raised a single finger, his eyes narrowing. In an instant, a wave of invisible force rippled through the room. The knight standing at the front—about to deliver the grim report—suddenly stopped, his eyes widening in shock. Without warning, his body was violently torn apart, as if an unseen sword had sliced through him. Blood sprayed across the stone floor, and the man crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
The rest of the group recoiled in horror, their faces pale with terror. Libbie leaned forward on his throne, his expression dark. "I don't need excuses," he said coldly. "I need results."
The room fell into a deathly silence, and no one dared to speak again.
