The deafening cacophony of shattering glass, cracking timber, and slicing swords echoed relentlessly across the veranda, creating a chaotic symphony of destruction. But inside the living room, amidst the swirling dust and magical flares, Solis's mind had gone perfectly, terrifyingly quiet.
He watched the grotesque, purplish-black vines regenerate as soon as Anthem and Melody cut them down. He saw the sweat glistening on Artemis's brow as she hurled crescent blades of moonlight into the encroaching darkness. It was a spectacular display of divine martial prowess—a battle straight out of the ancient myths Noir so loved to read about. But to Solis, who processed the world through the lens of calculated risk and aggressive negotiation, it was a fundamentally flawed strategy.
"We are playing their game," Solis murmured.
