Rex remained motionless, a statue of scarred muscle and coiled intent. The bathroom's silence became absolute, broken only by the distant drip of water from a faucet, each drop sounding like a hammer blow against the anvil of his concentration.
Behind his eyes, the world was no longer made of marble and steam; it was a cascade of variables, a storm of tactical projections and brutal possibilities.
'Leonidas.'
The name resonated in his mind with the weight of a threat. The second strongest mage in Aethelgard, a man Rex had never stood across from in combat, but whose reputation preceded him like a cold wind.
He was a man of structured power and devastating arcane precision. But worse than his magic was his bloodline.
He was Helena's husband, the man who would see his wife's authority usurped and her family's legacy dismantled. Unlike any other enemy Rex would face, Leonidas wouldn't just fight for power; he would fight with the raw, unvarnished fury of a man protecting his own.
