Ethan's hand was mere inches from the door's cold metal handle. But before his fingers could close around it, a voice sliced through the silence, halting him mid-reach. It was unmistakably male, imbued with a playful like a mocking amusement.
"You truly are a spectacle boy," the voice said, its tone rich with mirth. "The way you laid low the guardian, it was a performance worthy of an encore."
The words hung in the air, a taunt wrapped in praise, and Ethan knew without looking that the owner of the voice was not an ally.
This was someone who found entertainment in the trials of others, someone who saw their desperate struggle not as a fight for survival, but as a source of entertainment.
Ethan turned his head but found no one. He Soul Sense also don't sensing anything.
"What do you want?" He asked.
