[Location: Central Park, New York]
Barbaras inhaled sharply as forcefully stopping something down his throat, but—
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
—he roared instead, laughter splitting the night, booming like a war drum.
"Bow? To you? YOU?" Barbaras' jagged teeth gleamed in the moonlight, lips peeling back in a snarl that was half grin, half madness. His hulking frame rippled, veins bulging as crimson aura flared around him like a volcanic eruption. "Don't make me spit, boy. You're nothing but a remnant dressed in borrowed fire!"
The ground splintered under his clawed feet as he lunged forward, each step cracking the stone beneath, Central Park's soil unable to contain the sheer ferocity of his presence. His claws extended, dripping with writhing hellfire, the scent of blood and molten iron filling the air.
But the moment his killing intent surged forward—Zeraphira moved.
