The swirling smoke filled the arena, casting shadows and creating an eerie, disorienting atmosphere. Wallace's relentless plasma blasts had accomplished their goal, and now the dense haze hung heavy in the air. Butler Mendez, however, stood unfazed, a confident smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"This is just a smokescreen," Mendez said aloud, his voice cutting through the fog. "It won't change the outcome much. I'm used to this."
As he spoke, his mind wandered back to his teenage years, a time when he was rigorously trained in his powerful family's arts of combat and strategy. He recalled the countless hours spent in similar conditions, where visibility was often limited, and danger lurked in every shadow.
"When I was a teenager," Mendez began, his voice calm and steady, "I fought many assassins during my training. They thought they could use the cover of darkness and smoke to their advantage. But I learned to navigate through it all."
