The man who had taken a step outside was taller and broader than the first, his presence commanding attention. His face bore the scars of countless battles, and his eyes held the hardened look of someone who had seen more bloodshed than most could imagine.
As soon as I saw him, I knew—this was someone who had been through wars, someone who had survived when others hadn't.
His aura was heavy with experience, the kind that only comes from being on the front lines of countless conflicts.
'It is tingling.'
There was a certain pressure coming at him, something that I was very well accustomed to.
He took one look at me, his gaze sharp and assessing, before turning to the man who had brought me here. "Hector," he said, his voice deep and gruff, tinged with a slight irritation. "You're telling me this young pup is the one who beat you and your men? Are you mocking me?"
