Lady Eryndor leaned forward on her throne, eyes gleaming like molten rubies. Her fingers drummed once against the armrest, and the oppressive mana around them eased, though her presence remained suffocating.
"Rivals and knowledge…" she repeated softly. Then her tone sharpened like a drawn blade.
"Words are fragile. Power is not. Show me."
The command echoed through the throne room.
Igron's grin widened instantly, his hand tightening around the hilt of the blackened blade he carried. He stepped forward, boots ringing against the marble. The man instinctively reached as if to hold him back, but Kairo's slight shake of the head stopped him.
The Hound stood silent, his unreadable helm tilted with faint interest.
Igron drew in a breath, then thrust his hand forward. Black fire rippled along his sword, spiraling up its length until the air hissed. With a single swing, he cleaved downward—
The marble floor split apart in a jagged line, stone burning with a glow like molten metal.
Gasps rang from the attendants at the edges of the chamber. The sheer destructive force lingered in the air, a heat that pressed against the skin.
Igron rested the sword against his shoulder, smirk unshaken.
"That's what I want, Lady. To fight, to break, to burn. If I'm to carry your name… it won't be in silence."
Lady Eryndor's eyes narrowed, but her smirk was unmistakable. She had expected arrogance—yet the raw strength behind it was undeniable.
Her gaze drifted then, sliding to Kairo.
"And you?" she asked.
"Show me what the boy who asked for knowledge truly holds."
The chamber went still again. Igron stepped back, his grin lingering, eager to see what Kairo would do next.