"A mere beast dares to create a territory…..I can't wait to trample on its neck once I kill it."
As Lucavion continued his ascent, his smirk only widened, a sharp contrast to the serious demeanor he had just displayed moments ago.
His eyes, usually filled with determination, now gleamed with a fierce, almost predatory light. His hand rested confidently on the hilt of his estoc, the weapon that had become an extension of himself, a symbol of his growing power and relentless ambition.
Vitaliara, perched on his shoulder, observed the transformation with a mix of concern and understanding.
She had seen this change in him before—this shift in his demeanor, this surge of arrogance that seemed to take hold whenever he prepared for battle. It was as if the act of facing an enemy, the thrill of combat, awakened something primal within him.
