The air grew heavier with tension as Lord Salomonis took a measured step back, his cloak sweeping the ground like liquid fire. The dim light of the pavilion cast a spectral glow on his features—the sharp line of his jaw, the glint of mischief in his emerald eyes, and the faint smirk that tugged at his lips. His auburn hair, kissed with streaks of gold, shimmered under the light, giving him an aura of both regality and danger.
"Interesting," Salomonis mused aloud, his gaze fixed on the swirling storm of white aura enveloping David. Around them, the space darkened, the very fabric of the world seeming to bend under the weight of David's presence. "A master-ranked swordsman who can wield formless aura? How extraordinary. Tell me, David, how does one not yet king-ranked achieve such a feat?" His voice was smooth, almost mocking, yet tinged with genuine curiosity.