Lucavion's smirk widened as his dark eyes swept over the remaining elders. The five figures stood tense, their weapons drawn and mana flaring in a futile attempt to mask their fear. The blood-soaked courtyard was silent except for the faint crackle of energy radiating from his blade.
"Well," he drawled, his voice calm and laced with mockery, "it seems we've dwindled down to just five. A pity. I was hoping for a more lively welcome."
His gaze settled on the wiry elder, who stood rigid, his sharp features tight with wariness. Then it shifted to Varos, whose amber eyes blazed with fury, his grip on his axe white-knuckled. Finally, Lucavion turned his attention to Jayan and the two scarred elders beside her. His smirk faded, replaced by a cold, piercing stare.
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