"Honestly that has to be embarrassing."
Atop a distant building far removed from the battlefield, two figures watched from the shadows. One was cloaked in white, his shoulders relaxed as soft laughter slipped past his lips. The other stood wrapped in black, posture rigid, eyes sharp with barely concealed irritation.
Below them, the echoes of the battle had already faded, but its outcome lingered heavily in the air.
Enzo had defeated Titus. Not scraped by, not won through luck, but crushed him cleanly. The gap between them had been vast, almost cruel in how clearly it had been displayed. This was not merely a loss. It was humiliation laid bare for all to see.
"You would think that at your age you'd understand certain situations better," the man in black sneered, turning his gaze toward his brother.
