There was nothing wrong with Matlock's reaction. If anything, it was completely justified. The harsh reality of their situation was undeniable—death was certain. There was no hope, no margin for escape. They were six in number, stranded in an uncharted zone, surrounded on all sides by forces far beyond their ability to resist.
To one side lay a dead zone filled with ancient and eldritch horrors. In another direction loomed the nest of Ashergon, a dragon known for leveling entire cities, guarded by an army of powerful subordinates. The third path was blocked by a mana anomaly, a gravity wall that crushed all who approached it. And as if fate wished to mock them further, the last possible route was infested with an advancing army of demons, boxed in with them.
There was no escape.
Perhaps it would be better to make their peace with the goddess and accept the inevitable.
Damon watched them in silence.