The white-gold light flame that erupted from Roderick blazed brighter than the heart of a star, yet it gave off no heat. It was colder than the depths of winter.
It was no mortal energy, but something from a higher dimension: the embodiment of divine will.
Iron Hammer's heart nearly stopped.
Before that pure divine might, he felt as small as a speck of dust.
He tried to raise his shield, the Epic-grade Giant Shield that had saved him from countless fatal blows. But now it weighed a thousand tons. His arm muscles trembled uncontrollably, and he could not lift it.
The warrior who had been laughing wildly moments ago froze, his sneer turning into a grotesque mask of terror. The Flame Giant Axe on his shoulder fell to the ground with a clang, but he did not seem to notice. His mouth hung open, yet no sound came out.
The entire Iron Hammer Squad—Blackwater Company's finest unit, the executioners whose name struck fear into countless players across the North American War Zone—seemed to have had their souls ripped away. They stood like statues.
Fear?
No. This went beyond fear.
It was the instinctive trembling and submission of beings utterly crushed by a higher order of life.
"The strong prey on the weak..."
Roderick's voice rang out again. This time, it did not come from his mouth. It exploded inside the minds of every member of the Iron Hammer Squad, in the deepest reaches of their souls!
The voice was vast and indifferent, devoid of human emotion, as though an eternal law were pronouncing judgment.
"You are the weak."
As the words fell, Roderick made no further move.
He merely raised his eyes.
His pupils, burning with white-gold flame, fixed on the nearly hundred elite players before him.
And then