In a flash, the shards shot forward. The entire room erupted in chaos—bullets, shouts, bursts of light colliding with the black energy that flowed from Julius like smoke. Every movement the agents made seemed one step slower than it should have been.
One by one, they fell—some screaming, some fading into silence before their voices even reached the air.
Within minutes, only one man remained—the leader.
He dropped to his knees, panting heavily, his weapon trembling in his hand. The room was silent once more, save for the faint hum of power.
"You… you're not one of them," he muttered.
Julius approached, mask still glinting faintly. "You're right," he said. "I'm not one of them."
He crouched slightly, his voice dropping lower. "Tell your lord something for me, if you live long enough to meet him."
The man's breath hitched. "W-What…?"
Julius leaned close, and though his lips were hidden behind the mask, his voice cut through the air like a blade.
