บท 164: The Decreased Aura of Death Land

In the grand chamber of Pyrohaven, the air was thick with anticipation. The room, adorned with ancient tapestries depicting legendary battles and conquests, resonated with a sense of history and power.

At its center, behind a massive oak desk, sat Alfred, the commander of the Pyrohaven forces. His presence was commanding, his posture relaxed yet authoritative, embodying a leader both feared and revered.

Alfred's piercing gaze settled on his underlings gathered before him. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him, exuding an air of composed arrogance. His sharp eyes, always calculating, swept over the group with an intensity that commanded attention.

"So, what's the latest from the Death Land?" Alfred's voice was cool and steady, betraying no hint of concern or excitement.