A Sword That Answers the Heavens
After dealing with Vita Zain, Max did not dare delay another breath.
A sudden move brought him ahead, fabric fluttering like wings caught in wind. Tension shaped his face now, not vanity. Hands folded - not flat, but rounded like they held something fragile - as he dipped low near the girls. Respect lived in that gesture, quiet and unspoken.
"Ladies, I failed to discipline him properly and allowed this bastard to offend you. I hope you can forgive his rashness on my account. When we return, I will discipline him strictly. This will never happen again."
Not loud, his voice stayed tight - held back on purpose. People thought elders shouted with pride, but he spoke nothing like that. Each word felt picked slowly, as if one wrong step could cut him down. A quiet tension ran through how he formed sentences.
