The tent's air was heavy with tension, the kind that made even seasoned leaders shift uneasily in their seats. The circular table at the center, an ornate piece carved from dark, enchanted wood, bore the weight of both maps and tempers.
"How could such a thing even happen?!" The King of Beasts roared, his voice reverberating through the canvas walls like a caged lion's growl. His massive fist slammed onto the table, rattling the intricate array sketches strewn across its surface. "How is it possible? I thought the church and its people were resistant to the corrupt energy flowing through these planes!"
The other leaders exchanged glances, their expressions betraying mixtures of anger, disbelief, and frustration. Though no one mirrored the King of Beasts' outburst, the tension on their faces was undeniable. Among the grim expressions, one figure stood out. The King of Swords leaned back in his chair, a faint, almost mocking smile curling his lips.