The evening remained quiet, heavy with anticipation. Only the gentle hush of the leaves broke the stillness around the three figures standing at the heart of Kaidën's domain.
Lyia, Crimson Fang, stood tensed, short black daggers drawn, their blades etched in crimson runes that pulsed with latent magic. Her eyes roamed the boy before her—no older than ten, ripped shirt, mussed hair, a thin stream of blood emerging from his lip from the earlier clash. Yet he stood tall, his aura unshaken. Too calm.
By his side, Alex cracked his neck, sweeping his twin longswords swords lazily in a wide arc. "That's enough," he growled. "This little monster, we take him down now."
Lyia scoffed. "No mercy"
Before Kaidën could blink, both Alex and Lyia launched forward.
