Serx had already moved to stand beside Riyan, his massive shield planted firmly, his expression radiating absolute vindication. The positioning was deliberate—not defensive, but declarative. A statement that said more clearly than words: I knew. I always knew Lord Riyan would never genuinely risk those he values.
"Of course you're already standing with him," Ava muttered, pulling a bag of spicy chips from her equipment pouch—because apparently she'd been carrying snacks into final battle—and crunching one with aggressive satisfaction. "Your Riyan-worship is so predictable it's almost comforting. Like a natural law. Gravity pulls things down, water flows downhill, Serx stands beside Yan with unfiltered devotion."
"Lord Riyan's strategic coordination validated my confidence," Serx replied without a trace of shame. "He orchestrated victory through remote tactical guidance while ensuring zero casualties. This is precisely why devotion to his leadership is logical."
