"You met the wrong man." A voice whispered into her ears. For the first time ever, Miquella shivered. Her left eye went to the corner and found Godfrey holding the backrest of her throne, leaning towards her.
His black sclera and golden pupils pierced her soul.
Miquella left her throne, somersaulting twice through the air and landing with one knee on the ground. Her eyes followed Godfrey who sat on her throne and entwined his fingers.
'Why isn't my judgment working on him? Could it be…?! No it can't be, he's a newborn paragon!'
Her self-control was slowly slipping and it was evident from the doubtful expression on her face.
"You would have been dead if I wished to take your life but I really do not want to eliminate Earth's powerhouses or that would make this world more vulnerable."
"So you care about the world now?" Miquella scoffed while rising to her feet, her back straight.
Godfrey looked at her. Silence settled between them and the air felt so tense it was hot.
