Seran's breath caught.
Thump…
The echo of the blow still rang inside his ribs—dull, internal, nauseating. A punch. Just a punch.
And yet his vision swam.
For a split second, the world around him blurred at the edges, the scent of charred mana in the air mingling with dust and shame.
He pressed one knee into the cracked stone, sword trembling against the ground as he looked up—eyes narrowed, jaw clenched.
And there he was.
Standing above him.
This guy.
That same posture. That same look. Not pity. Not mockery.
Just… indifference. Calculation.
And those eyes—that obsidian black, clear and sharp, looking at him like a problem to solve.
'You.'
The word formed in his mind like a crackle of dry lightning.
A strange heat surged through his chest. Not fear. Not guilt. Not even humiliation.
Anger.
Pure. Clean. Centered.
How dare you.
He had done everything right.
