Without hesitation, Athena raised her hand, the air around her crackling with chaos magic. A resounding slap echoed across the chamber, carrying such profound force that the very walls of blood rippled in response as though alive and recoiling from her fury.
The impact struck Moranda, square across the face, his head snapping to the side as he was hurled to the ground.
The silence in the room was deafening, the chaotic energy lingering in the air like an unspoken warning.
A second cup bearer, one whose body shimmered and flowed like molten fire, instinctively stepped forward, his eyes blazing with defiance.
But before he could act, Moranda, still sprawled on the floor, raised a hand to stop him. Slowly, he pushed himself up, wiping the blood from his mouth.
His lips curved into the faintest of bitter smirks as he bowed slightly before Athena, his voice steady despite the sting of humiliation.
