Alaric's crimson eyes gleamed with cold satisfaction.
Checkmate.
But before he could savor the taste of victory, a voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Enjoying the show, are we?"
Suddenly, a firm, unyielding grip clamped down on his shoulder.
What?
His body went rigid. Eyes widened as a sudden, suffocating pressure washed over him, like a heavy blanket pulling the air from his lungs.
For the briefest moment, he just stood there. Frozen.
Then the pressure eased.
Alaric turned his head around and saw a man stood there. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Built like someone who'd spent decades conditioning their body into a weapon.
He wore black coat and red mask.
"How can I help you, sir?" Alaric spoke, his tone steady.
[Scanner!]
Text appeared above the man's head.
[Knight Commander Sebastian - Red Mask]
[Rank: S]
S-rank. Fuck.
Alaric's mind raced.
An S-rank knight here? Grabbing him specifically.
What does he want?
His eyes shifted.
