The grand ballroom, once filled with an air of opulence and intrigue, now crackled with tension. The confrontation between Daimon and Valerius had escalated, and the atmosphere had grown thick with anticipation.
Shadows seemed to dance with malevolent glee as if they, too, were eager spectators to this clash of immortals. Valerius, his chest still throbbing from the unexpected punch delivered by Daimon, struggled to maintain his composure.
Fury surged through him like a tempestuous storm. His voice, now trembling with anger, erupted as he spat out, "You bastard, how dare you attack me?"
Daimon, standing there with an eerie grin, seemed to relish the chaos he had sown. His laughter, dark and maddening, cut through the tense air like a blade.
He taunted Valerius, his voice laced with a twisted amusement. "What I want to do is not of your concern. If you desire this item, then take it, if you can."
