Julia isn't done yet. Desperation fuels her voice as she commands Marla, her eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and fear. "Marla, get the wine bottle from that stupid retard!" she yells, gesturing wildly in my direction. "Kill them!"
Marla obeys with the same hollow compliance, her movements almost puppet-like. She picks up the item, her gaze empty and unfocused as she turns toward our intruders.
"Allow me," the taller man says, stepping forward. His voice carries a calm authority, and the smaller figure, whose gender remains a mystery, nods and steps back. He positions himself between Marla and his ally, his stance relaxed yet ready.
Marla charges, bottle in hand, her once-great potential now reduced to a mindless act of aggression. Her level 9 status as a warrior should mean something. She's not top-tier, but she's far from weak. Yet without gear or spirit, she's just a golem made of flesh, and the disparity is evident in their clash.
