Pho stood from his throne, his three-meter frame towering even at a distance. The frost around him intensified, the air itself seeming to crystallize as he moved.
"Kragoth is dead. The pits need a new overseer. Someone strong enough to command respect, brutal enough to maintain discipline, capable enough to handle the slaves without letting them die too quickly."
He descended the steps slowly, each step accompanied by the sound of ice forming beneath his feet.
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