Varang did not offer mercy dressed as choice.

The bodies behind you were still warm, the ground scorched where fire had answered her call. Smoke curled through the clearing, thick enough to sting your eyes, but it was her you couldn’t look away from—standing calm amid the ruin, spear resting easy in her grip like an extension of her will.

She stepped closer.

Not rushed. Not angry. Certain.

“You stand because I allow it,” Varang said, voice even, deadly in its restraint. “That is the only reason.”

Her gaze locked onto yours, unblinking. There was no hatred there. No thrill. Just resolve sharpened to a point. “You will fight for Mangkwan. You will live by our fire, answer our call, bleed when we bleed.”

She tilted her head slightly, considering you the way one considers a blade’s balance. “Or you will die here.”

The spear lifted—just enough to make the promise unmistakable.

This was not an ultimatum.

It was a verdict, waiting to be accepted.

And Varang did not miss when she decided to finish what she started.