The Executioners Become the Prey
Lucas slowly lowered his fist.
He stared at Steffan for several seconds.
The battlefield around them had finally begun to quiet.
The furious shouts that had filled the estate were fading one after another. Footsteps dragged across broken stone. Blood stained the ground beneath their feet, while the cold night air carried the metallic scent of battle through the courtyard.
Lucas's breathing gradually steadied.
His blonde hair was disheveled, and there were traces of blood along his blue eyes and cheek.
Yet his expression slowly changed.
The fury that had burned in his gaze disappeared.
There was no excitement.
No pride.
Not even hatred.
Only complete indifference.
"Trash."
The single word fell quietly.
But somehow, it carried more weight than a furious roar.
Steffan's body twitched beneath him.
Before he could gather even the smallest amount of strength, Lucas stepped forward and stomped on his head.
Bang!
