Everyone of those beings stared at the sudden slang.
They weren't used to such low-level words, their refined ears unaccustomed to the crude bite of mortal vernacular.
Whispers spread like wildfire, shock etching their flawless features.
"What did you say? How dare you say such filthy words in the presence of the supreme tower, and which clan do you belong to?" the young man asked again, his voice trembling with indignation.
"I said punk, get lost," Ethan repeated, his tone was flat and unyielding.
He was not in the mood to waste time with him.
Suddenly, the knife in the hand of that young man started to glow.
He was angered to the point of exploding, his face flushing with divine fury, veins of light pulsing along his skin.
"I am Lucious Silvera. I challenge you to a duel, right here, right now," he declared, brandishing the weapon with a flourish.
Ethan didn't say anything.
He looked into the eyes of the young man and released a slight aura of infinity on him.
