The warehouse burned with the color of dying embers. Cracks spread across the stone floor, and the air shimmered under the heat of Lucien's flames. Trafalgar stood in the center of it all—silent, still, Maledicta held loosely at his side. The faint hum of mana around him was steady and unhurried, his breathing calm despite the heat.
Lucien smirked from behind the [Brawler]. "What's wrong, Lord Morgain? Not feeling so confident now? Maybe that fancy family name doesn't mean much without your guards."
The [Brawler] cracked his gauntlets together, each sound echoing like a hammer against steel. "You really think you can take us both?"
Trafalgar didn't answer. His expression didn't even flicker. He took one measured step forward. The movement alone made Lucien flinch.
"Trying to look intimidating now, huh?" Lucien sneered, conjuring a ball of fire in his hand. "I wonder what your family will say when you die here like a dog."
