Vic prepared to strike again, his fists trembling with rage, but his movement halted as a shadow fell over the battlefield.
A tall figure approached, his presence commanding and his steps measured. Golden, spiky hair gleamed under the dim sunlight, partially obscuring sharp, piercing eyes that seemed to see everything. The man exuded an air of unshakable authority, his right hand casually tucked into his pocket, giving no indication of urgency despite the chaos surrounding him.
He stopped a few feet away, surveying the scene with an expression that was both calm and cold, his gaze lingering briefly on the motionless figures strewn across the ground.
"What the hell is going on here?" Klaus demanded, his voice sharp and precise, cutting through the thick tension like a blade. His words carried an air of finality, instantly silencing the battlefield.
