"Are you fucking kidding me?"
Aestrea's voice was low—too calm.
A slow grin crept across his lips, but there was no joy in it.
Just pure rage.
Crackle...!
His violet aura snapped like a thunderstorm around his body, wrapping his fingers in lightning that hummed with killing intent.
His eyes, a deep molten red, glared at the Royal Knight with a coldness that could kill gods.
The knight flinched.
"W-Whoa...!"
They all did.
The Royal Knights stumbled back a few steps, blades raised, hands shaking. The sheer pressure coming off him felt like a vice around their throats.
The commander tried to hold firm, his face pale. "D-Don't move!" he barked. "You so much as breathe wrong, and we'll drop you where you stand!"
Mana exploded from their bodies like a flare, but their swords still trembled.
And Aestrea?
He stood still.
Didn't even blink.
His eyes slowly swept over them.
He didn't need to speak.
They knew.
He could kill them all before their hearts finished the next beat.
