Max heard every word the three spoke, their arrogance carrying clearly through the heavy air of the wasteland. His face, however, remained calm, his expression betraying nothing of what stirred inside him. Slowly, he turned his gaze toward them. His voice was steady, almost casual, as he asked, "Are you three here to kill me?"
"You are right," Dave sneered, his lips curling in disdain. "Out of all the geniuses blessed with the golden crown, you are by far the weakest. You can only blame yourself for this misfortune." As he spoke, his hand rose, mana gathering rapidly in his palm until it formed into a glowing sphere of condensed energy. The crackling of unstable power hissed in the silence.
