In the suffocating opulence of the penthouse office, the air thickened with the scent of aged wine and the copper tang of fresh blood.
Seijirou stood at the center of the room, his Ki flaring like a cold, blue nebula that made the very floorboards groan under the weight of his presence.
He stood like a predator who had finally cornered his prey, but Mister, lounging at the head of the banquet table, didn't look like a man who was afraid.
Instead, he even smirked, his pig-like eyes glistening with a dark, wet mirth as he watched Seijirou prepare to fight.
"Your city? Boy, big words coming from a brar." With a slow, deliberate motion, Mister raised his flabby hand and snapped his fingers.
The sound was sharp, like a bone breaking, and it immediately silenced the room.
Seijirou frowned and was about to take a step forward when he immediately noticed something from the corner of the room.
