As Julius stepped into the testing arena, Bob's fists twitched and veins throbbed on his forehead.
A mercenary's reputation was almost as important as his strength. Those brats' disrespect, in front of Lana to make things worse, was a direct insult to his established prestige. A light beating wouldn't suffice anymore. He wouldn't stop until they begged him, sprawled in a pool of their own blood.
He unsheathed his plain, long sword and lunged without warning, a cruel smirk splitting his face.
Flames ignited the runic symbols carved along the edges, their lively crackling engulfing the room as he mocked. "First rule of a mercenary: always be on guard!"
Unfazed, Julius watched the blade close in. The heated metal already threatened to bite his glowing skin when he snapped his body to the side with the vivacity of a snake.
The burning edges whistled a centimeter away from his ear, the scalding arc missing him.
