For a brief moment—
Elizabeth didn't move.
She simply stood there, head slightly turned, cheek faintly reddened where Arthur's hand had struck.
She took a heartbeat to process it.
A human.
Had just slapped her.
In front of her people.
In front of her elite.
In front of her entire race.
Slowly—
Her head turned back toward Arthur.
Her eyes darkened.
The red glow inside them burned brighter, like molten blood.
A thick, dark, ominous aura began pouring out of her body, flooding the arena like a suffocating tide, pressing down on every spectator until even breathing felt like a reluctant act of defiance against her wrath.
Arthur felt it wash over him.
His throat went dry.
He swallowed hard.
"Yeah… that did it," he thought.
He instinctively created distance, pushing off the ground and leaping back several meters to widen the gap between them, boots scraping against shattered stone as his balance wavered for an instant.
Elizabeth did not give him time.
She blurred.
