The icy gaze of the north wind seemed to pierce through as it landed squarely on Nazariou. Unfiltered, intense bloodlust surged toward him, like the very air was screaming for his demise. Behind Theo, a radiant shadow formed, coalescing into a figure that brought warmth yet instilled awe in all who witnessed it.

The light particles swirling into shape touched the hearts of the Naga survivors deeply, revitalizing their spirits. As Lodbrok descended, her eyes burned with hatred, her sharp gaze fixed firmly on Nazariou.

“How dare you commit atrocities that even beasts would shy away from, while wearing the guise of a human?”

Her voice was cold, cutting through the battlefield with an unearthly chill. The lingering resentment in the land seemed to resonate with her words, frost creeping over the ground in eerie patterns. Members of the Tower couldn’t suppress the shivers coursing through them, their dread evident in their expressions.

“You’ve done what should never have been done,” Theo’s voice followed, carrying a chilling finality.

Even in his previous life, where he had served in intelligence units and witnessed the depths of human cruelty, nothing compared to the grotesque war crimes committed here. The abominations, the massacre—it was beyond comprehension, an evil that defied even the darkest imaginations.

The Mage Tower, which once claimed to uphold honor and justice, had forsaken its own principles in pursuit of power, turning into a monstrous mockery of its former self.