Crack
The dark orange brow of Guardian Silas furrowed deeply, harsh lines forming across his forehead, while the sharp popping of his finger joints intensified as the echo of Aro calling him a dog lingered in his ears.
That wretch—no, that utterly trivial thing, a creature with barely a few hundred years of accumulated service and experience—dared to address him in such a manner?!
But… silence.
If he responded with an insult, and Aro replied in kind, and the exchange devolved into mutual slander, then he would look no different from a quarrelsome child. His authority would erode, his dignity would fracture, and the image he had spent centuries cultivating would suffer an even greater blow.
Aro…
The name detonated inside Guardian Silas's mind, overflowing with venomous hatred and restrained fury. That pitiful existence, shackled within the combat emperor realm, was truly the mastermind behind every calamity that had befallen him?
How absurd. How laughable.
