"Are you fucking kidding me?"
Aestrea's voice was low—too calm.
A slow grin crept across his lips, but there was no joy in it.
Just pure rage.
Crackle...!
His violet aura snapped like a thunderstorm around his body, wrapping his fingers in lightning that hummed with killing intent.
His eyes, a deep molten red, glared at the Royal Knight with a coldness that could kill gods.
The knight flinched.
"W-Whoa...!"
They all did.
The Royal Knights stumbled back a few steps, blades raised, hands shaking. The sheer pressure coming off him felt like a vice around their throats.
The commander tried to hold firm, his face pale. "D-Don't move!" he barked. "You so much as breathe wrong, and we'll drop you where you stand!"
Mana exploded from their bodies like a flare, but their swords still trembled.
And Aestrea?
He stood still.
Didn't even blink.