Atticus felt the aged man's glare on him but said nothing.
He had never cared about the status of his enemies. Anyone who came after him, from an insignificant figure to some divine prince, would each face the same fate. Death.
Still, he had never found it necessary to brag about his kills. He simply glanced away from the man, choosing to remain silent.
"Ho? You won't even deny it?" The willguard's eyes glowed brighter. "Good… good. Youngsters these days."
He stretched out his hand, and the die snapped into it.
"Do you know what the most important part of any conflict is?" he said calmly.
"It isn't strength, nor talent. It's observation. Before you act, you watch. You watch how your enemy moves, what they protect, what they hesitate over. Find that one weak point… and the rest follows naturally."
Atticus fixed his eyes on the man's die as he threw it.
'Three.'
