The Crimson Count's eyes locked onto Mia. This girl—this fragile human—was the last line of defense. Maybe her crystal core could make up for what he'd lost.
His body crackled with energy, muscles twitching beneath his skin. The once-handsome face twisted, veins bulging as he shifted into his battle form.
A thick, suffocating aura of bloodlust began to seep from him, radiating the terrifying power of a body pushed to its absolute peak.
Then came the pressure—an overwhelming force that slammed into the battlefield like a mountain crashing down. It was crushing, inescapable.
Everyone watching felt a jolt of fear, like a razor-sharp spike hovering just above their brows, ready to plunge down at any second.
"The Crimson Count… is he finally getting serious?"
"That aura… it's insane…"
"Can Mia even survive this?"
"…"
The crowd stared, breath caught in their throats. No one dared to speak too loud. This fight—this moment—was everything.
