Chapter 49
A storm of emotions passed across the king's face, ranging from shock, disbelief, and grief, finally settling on something far more dangerous. Rage.
Pure, unfiltered rage that made the hair on my neck stand. With a roar that shook the throne room, he tore his throne apart from its pedestal with his bare hands and launched it at the intruders.
The cultist with the axe didn't so much flinch as the throne flew towards him. He just stepped forward and swung his massive blade, cutting the throne in half midair. Splinters and broken pieces rained down like confetti all around us.
I ducked instinctively, trying to avoid the debris. "Okay," I muttered. "That one's gonna be a problem."
Great. An axe-wielding terminator. Because what this day was missing was a mini-boss with precision furniture-cutting skills.
Since when did the Cult start hiring people with actual skills? I thought being borderline unsettling and completely incompetent was a part of their job requirements.
