"Orakh is dead!"
The shout ripped through the night like thunder. The cheerful hum of the feast shattered in an instant as chaos swept through the camp. Orcs rose to their feet, shouting in disbelief, while others ran toward the commotion where a group of warriors carried Orakh's lifeless body.
Evie and Ragnar exchanged alarmed glances before turning to Ren. He was still seated by the fire, unmoving, his expression blank. While everyone around them was in panic, Ren's breathing stayed calm, steady—almost unnervingly so.
"Ren… Orakh just died," Evie said, her voice trembling with shock. She half-expected him to jump up or at least show some emotion.
Ren simply nodded, his tone flat. "Yeah. It's part of the mission to get the mask."
Evie blinked, stunned. "Part of… the mission?"
He didn't even look affected.
