Kaelen tilted his head, a slow, mocking grin creeping across his lips as he studied Alex.
"So Sylen was your measuring stick?" he sneered. "That pathetic wretch has always been a loser. Weak. Soft. No drive, no discipline. Just a whining shadow of what an elf should be."
His tone was cold—elegant, but razor-edged.
"He ran from his lineage, spat on his birthright, and traded it all just to kneel before the God of Death like a mutt begging for scraps."
Alex didn't respond. His gaze stayed fixed, unflinching.
Kaelen's smile faltered, just for a moment. A flicker of something beneath the surface twitched in his eyes. Then, he stepped forward, his voice lowering into something almost intimate.
"But you, human... as abominable as you are… your potential is undeniable. That's the only reason I'm here. You've drawn attention."
He said it like a confession—reluctant, laced with distaste.
