Lucas stood over the passed-out young master, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips. His eyes gleamed with dark amusement as he knelt, inspecting the unconscious man.
The once smug and arrogant expression the young master had worn was now completely gone, replaced by fear and a twisted sense of defeat even in unconsciousness.
A low chuckle escaped Lucas's throat as he stood back up, his gaze lingering on the helpless figure.
Moments later, Roxana approached, her steps unhurried, her presence as fierce as the heat radiating from her. She casually wiped her hands, blood and ash still fresh on her fingertips, but her expression was one of mild boredom.
"They were too weak," she said, her tone dismissive, almost disappointed. "I didn't even use a quarter of my power."
