He forced himself to take a calming breath, reminding himself to focus on the imdiate danger rather than drowning in anger. But beneath the surface, he could feel jealousy simring, pushed aside yet never truly silenced. He resented the way Auron spoke so confidently about Elowen, as if she were rely an object to be owned rather than a woman with her own heart and choices.
"Admiring my handiwork?" Auron asked suddenly, breaking the tense silence with that arrogant smirk still plastered across his lips. Even bound as he was, his voice dripped confidence, each syllable carefully chosen to irritate Mikhailis further. "You seem rather fascinated. Perhaps envy suits you."
Mikhailis tilted his head, feigning mild amusent, though his muscles tensed slightly at the provocation. "Envy? Nah, I just like appreciating how desperate so people can be. It's fascinating how far you've fallen, relying on tricks to keep up. Tell , is there anything genuinely impressive about you, or are you completely artificial?"
Auron chuckled softly, eyes gleaming with sothing unreadable. "It's funny you should talk about things that don't belong here," he remarked casually, tilting his head as though studying a curious insect pinned under glass. "Your presence itself is a mistake—an anomaly. A nobody who ca from nowhere. How did you end up like this?" His eyes scanned Mikhailis slowly, almost mockingly. "How exactly did a useless stranger, a re accessory of a queen, suddenly gain such prowess?"
Mikhailis grinned slightly, hiding the sharpness behind a lazy expression. He was used to this kind of probing, attempts to dig beneath his surface and find weaknesses. "Oh, you know, good genetics, a healthy diet, and lots of squats," he said airily, deliberately dismissing the underlying seriousness of Auron's question.
Auron's eyes narrowed slightly, clearly displeased by the flippancy. "Laugh all you want, but you've ddled in things far beyond your comprehension," he replied coldly, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. "Tell —does Elowen know what you truly are capable of?"
Mikhailis gave a light chuckle, ignoring the faint unease prickling at the base of his neck. "Does she know about what? My devastating charm or my impeccable fashion sense? Honestly, you'll have to specify—there's a lot to choose from."
Auron's lips tightened into a thin line, irritation flickering beneath his mask of composure. "Play dumb all you want. Your strength isn't normal. According to my intel, you're supposed to be a harmless fool, a decorative figurehead at best—soone barely able to wield a sword without cutting himself."
"Well," Mikhailis quipped, shrugging slightly with mock humility, "I guess I'm just exceptional at defying expectations. Or maybe your intel is just trash. You really should demand a refund."
He carefully maintained his easygoing facade, refusing to give Auron even a hint of real information. Let him question, let him wonder—Mikhailis knew well the power of uncertainty. If Auron underestimated him, so much the better. It was a tactic he'd learned early on: never show all your cards, especially to soone as cunning and ruthless as this prince.
But his refusal to engage seriously seed to push Auron further towards the edge. Anger began to replace the amused arrogance in Auron's expression. His body tensed beneath the webbing, veins straining visibly at his temples. And suddenly—with a surge of unnatural strength—he wrenched one arm free, tearing through a portion of the necrotic strands binding him.
Mikhailis felt his pulse quicken slightly. He's stronger than I thought—those damned enhancents are no joke. Instantly, he fell into a defensive stance, body shifting subtly, muscles coiled and ready. Yet, despite the burst of danger, he resisted the urge to unleash his full strength just yet. He needed to learn more about Auron's fighting style first, to understand exactly how far his enhancents could push him.
Auron didn't hesitate. His blade flashed forward in a silver blur, the swirling grey mist around him whipping into a frenzy, echoing his frustration. "You should be weak!" he snarled, swinging again, his voice raw with disbelief and fury. "The information I received said you were worthless in battle—completely useless!"
Mikhailis dodged smoothly, moving with calculated precision, the blade passing close enough to feel the air split sharply against his skin. "Guess that just ans I'm doing my job right," he remarked dryly, forcing his voice into a casual calm even as his heart pounded fiercely within his chest.
Auron growled in annoyance, swinging more aggressively now, desperation fueling his movents. His strikes were quick and vicious, but they lacked precision. Anger made him predictable, easy to evade if Mikhailis kept his cool. Yet Mikhailis could sense sothing shifting, a dangerous tension growing within Auron.
He saw it a second too late: Auron's hand flashed toward his belt, fingers closing swiftly around a small vial glowing faintly with an unnatural luminescence. Another doping agent, another boost to his already augnted strength. Mikhailis moved forward instinctively, ready to intercept, to stop the vial from reaching Auron's lips—
But a large, gloved hand reached out first, seizing Auron's wrist with crushing force. The unexpected move froze everyone, tension exploding through the room like a shockwave.
Mikhailis felt the air around him thicken, his instincts screaming sharply. A sudden sense of dread gripped him, and he knew instantly sothing had changed dramatically.
Rodion's voice sliced urgently through the tense silence, sharper and more commanding than before.
It is kind of annoying and confusing for Mikhailis at first as there are other enforcers as well within the technomancers that he just faced, but at the sa ti, a bell rings within him when Rodion warned him.
At those words, Mikhailis's heart lurched sharply in his chest. The Enforcer—the infamous, terrifying assassin and warrior whose re na carried death. The realization of who stood before him made his stomach twist with anxiety. He had heard the whispers, knew exactly how dangerous this enemy was supposed to be. This was no re adversary—this was a true monster.
Rodion continued, tone darker, colder than ever.
Mikhailis stood perfectly still, every nerve in his body screaming in alarm, adrenaline roaring through his bloodstream. His eyes t the Enforcer's, a shiver crawling down his spine at the absolute emptiness he saw reflected there—cold, ruthless, utterly devoid of rcy.
He barely whispered the words, throat dry with sudden fear. "Rodion… give an estimate."
Rodion was silent for a split second, calculating, analyzing rapidly before delivering his chilling assessnt.
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