Ryuzen rose to his feet, brushing the dust from his battle-worn clothes. The murmurs in the hall stilled instantly, all eyes on him. His golden slit eyes glimmered faintly, and his voice cut through the noise with steady authority.
"I appreciate the offers," he said evenly. "But the Junior Blood Legion was not formed to lean on others. We carved our way through Azathoth's jaws, and we survived Hell Mode because we trusted only ourselves. That will not change."
A sharp silence followed his words.
Roland of Iron Fang frowned, his men shifting uneasily behind him. Seraphine's crimson eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a faint smirk that did not reach her eyes. Garron of Temporals Guild, however, simply crossed his arms, his heavy aura pressing down on the room like a storm about to break.
"You speak boldly, boy," Garron rumbled. "But boldness without allies becomes arrogance. Temporals remembers those who refuse an open hand."
