Victor stood there, his expression morphing from anticipation to disbelief, and then to a deep-seated disappointment. The ferocity and determination that had surged through him, fueling his powerful summoning, dissipated as if snuffed out by a sudden gale.
The wolves, his wolves, embodiments of his will and years of concentrated effort, now frolicked at the feet of the baroness, their menacing growls turned into submissive whimpers.
His technique, a manifestation of his resolve and a symbol of retribution, had been effortlessly neutralized, not through brute force, but with a casual, almost mocking, display of power.
The sight of these fierce spirits, now reduced to mere pets, was a bitter pill to swallow. It was as if his own strength, his very will, had been trivialized.