Lucy's expression hardened a steely seriousness replacing the passionate warmth from moments before. She took a step forward, her voice a soft, calm blade. "Let me be perfectly clear," she began, her tone unnervingly composed. "Tolf is not merely an organization. It is not just a vision. It is my life's work, my legacy, my very soul forged into purpose." She let her words settle, amplifying the tension with every syllable, every heartbeat in the room quickening under her gaze. "And I will protect it—by any means necessary."
Her eyes swept over the crowd, each pair of eyes meeting hers, and she began to walk among them. Her aura pressed down upon them, forcing the proudest leaders and most revered figures to sink to their knees, struggling under its weight. She stopped in front of one man, a high-ranking officer with years of service, and looked at him coldly.