"What are you going to do now?"
King Magnar's voice was low—careful. Like a man treading across thin, cracking ice.
Max turned slowly. His gaze swept across the gathered leaders like a cold blade, and when he spoke, his voice was ice.
"I've already marked every single one of the geniuses here… with my yellow soul."
He paused. Let the silence thicken. Then added,
"Which means…" he glanced at the stunned faces,
"…if I so much as sense a move from any of you—just one thought… and I can kill every single one of them."
The air froze.
Gasps broke out like shattering glass.
A sharp breath sucked in from dozens of mouths—fear, naked and raw, rippled across the camp.
Even King Magnar's expression flickered.
But for the others—those who had stood against Max—their blood ran cold.
In the East Region camp, the reaction was even more intense.
Kate's lips parted slightly, unable to speak.
She just stared at Max… unable to reconcile what she was seeing.
