Silence*
Was what followed after Valcroy's words, their eyes glued over him. His face had a grin plastered over it. Like whatever happened before, this was nothing but an illusion. Their eyes travelled downward, toward his leg, which should've been broken, but now it was not. The blood was there. Telling them what they saw was not a mirage.
Valcroy could feel their fiery gazes, and all that did in return was widened his grin. He dashed, appearing before the assailant and punched, aiming at his chest, but the person was now ready.
The assailant shifted back, narrowly avoiding Valcroy's fist as it cut through the air inches from his chest. Valcroy didn't hesitate; he spun on his heel, following up with a swift elbow aimed at the assailant's face. But his opponent ducked just in time, letting the strike drift past him.
