"Haha, Young Master Omar, how was that little gift I left behind for you in the Berserk Lightning Region?"
Max's laugh rang out, sharp and disdainful, echoing through the high rafters of the Hourglass Restaurant's third floor. His white robes swished around his legs as he tilted his head slightly, his eyes glinting like blades beneath the glow of the lanterns overhead.
He taunted, voice dripping with a cruel amusement that rolled over the crowd like a sudden gust of icy wind. "Did it give you a good scare—or did it blow up more than just your pride?"
Omar's face turned from livid red to pale gray, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly for a moment like a fish pulled from water. His chest heaved under the black robes marked with lightning sigils, and veins stood out at his temples as rage seethed inside him.
"You…!" he choked, fingers trembling as he pointed at Max, but words seemed to fail him.
