The air between Albert and Dutch seemed to grow heavier by the second. Byako still vibrated with residual energy, the blade emitting a faint hum that echoed across the silent field.
The white glow in Albert's eyes didn't dim even a bit as he took a single step forward, forcing Dutch to shift his weight onto his heel.
"You leave now," Albert said, each word laced with a tone that wasn't a request—it was an order.
He raised his sword slowly, the glow reflecting off Dutch's scarred face. "It's the only chance I'll give you."
A muscle in Dutch's jaw twitched. He didn't flinch, nor did he blink.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if assessing the enemy ahead. The white fire still dancing on his sword concentrated into a tighter beam, as if preparing for his next move.
"You think you can intimidate me just because you have a spirit sword?"
His voice was thick with taunting and wounded pride. "Albert... just because I don't have one doesn't mean I couldn't beat you."
