The system's decree hung in the air, a silent call to action. Lysander knew that lingering amongst the bewildered masses would serve no purpose. He needed to assess this strange world, to find a location that resonated with his burgeoning powers and offered a strategic advantage.
He turned to leave the immediate vicinity of the teleportation arrival point, his long strides carrying him away from the clusters of now-agitated Lords. The air was thick with their rising voices, arguments already breaking out over perceived slights and the scramble for unclaimed resources.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going, pretty boy?" a gruff voice boomed behind him.
Lysander halted, turning slowly to face the speaker. He was a stocky man with a scarred face and a belligerent sneer, clutching a crude-looking axe. Several other Lords, drawn by the aggression, turned to watch. The fragile peace had already shattered.
"I am going to find a location to establish my territory," Lysander replied, his voice calm and devoid of any hint of fear. His glacial eyes met the other man's challenging gaze without flinching.
"Like hell you are!" the scarred man spat. "We all arrived here together. We should stick together, share what we find!" His eyes flicked over Lysander's elegant attire, a hint of envy and resentment in their depths. "You think you're too good for us?"
Stick together? Share? Lysander's internally recoiled at the very suggestion of sharing with these fools. He had always relied on himself, and he had no intention of changing that now, especially in a world where only the strong survived.
"My path is my own," Lysander stated, his tone firm. "I have no interest in communal endeavors."
"Oh yeah?" the scarred man snarled, hefting his axe. "Well, maybe we'll just take what you've got then!" He took a step forward, his posture threatening.
Lysander's internal interface flickered, the details of his Lord skills readily accessible. He could unleash the raw power of Twilight Sovereignty, multiply an army from nothing, or even attempt to copy the crude fighting stance of this brute. But a direct confrontation here, so soon after arrival, seemed… inefficient. He needed information, a lay of the land.
"I have nothing you would want," Lysander said, his voice dangerously low. He allowed a sliver of the Ruthless Twilight aura to emanate from him, a subtle wave of coldness and calculation that washed over the aggressor and the onlookers. A few of them shifted uncomfortably, a flicker of unease in their eyes.
"Try me," the scarred man growled, seemingly unaffected by the subtle aura, or perhaps too enraged to notice. He lunged forward, his axe swinging in a clumsy arc.
Lysander moved with a speed that belied his lean frame. He sidestepped the blow with effortless grace, his movements fluid and precise. Before the scarred man could recover, Lysander's hand shot out, his long fingers closing around the man's wrist with surprising strength.
A jolt of energy, drawn from his awakened internal system, coursed through his grip. It wasn't a physical blow, but a subtle disruption, a jarring sensation that momentarily stunned the scarred man.
"I have no desire for pointless conflict," Lysander said, his voice now laced with a hint of menace. "But do not mistake my lack of aggression for weakness." He released the man's wrist, pushing him back with a dismissive flick of his hand.
The scarred man stumbled, momentarily disoriented. The other onlookers remained silent, their initial aggression tempered by Lysander's swift and effortless maneuver. They sensed a power beneath his elegant exterior, a cold competence that warned them against further provocation.
Lysander turned his back on them, his gaze already fixed on the strange, foreboding landscape beyond. He would not be drawn into petty squabbles. His focus was on survival and the establishment of his dominion. This world was a crucible, and he intended to emerge from it stronger, not bloodied by meaningless brawls.
He continued his exploration, leaving the disgruntled group behind. The encounter served as a stark reminder of the brutal reality of this new world. Every interaction was a potential conflict, every unclaimed resource a source of contention. He would need to be vigilant, cunning, and utterly ruthless if he intended to rise above the chaos. The first claim would set the stage for his reign, and he would choose his ground carefully.