"Damn it," Vivian muttered.
His sword was broken, and only the hilt remained in his hand.
It was the same sword his father had given him on his tenth birthday.
That sword had stayed with him through every hard moment, through every battle and struggle.
Losing it felt like losing a piece of himself.
"Haaa…" He let out a long sigh and carefully placed the hilt into his subspace.
His chest felt heavy, his heart bitter that something so precious had shattered so easily.
When he looked up, his eyes met the professor's.
The man was staring at him with hollow eyes, calm yet filled with something dark.
"You broke it twice," Vivian said through gritted teeth.
"If I don't make you my slave, then my name isn't Vivian D. Zenithara."
The air around him trembled as he declared those words.
Mana surged from his body, shaking the floor beneath his feet.
He stomped the ground and dashed forward.
The professor moved too, his speed was shocking.
