"Those are the rules. Resistance without the DPS to back it up? It's just a punchline."
Orion's final avatar lounged in the chair, his tone dismissive. He didn't care much about Isabella's apology.
To him, the earlier trash talk on the public channel was just that—trash talk. Locker room banter. But Isabella had taken it to heart. She was spiraling, her pride stung.
"It's simple math," Orion continued, his voice flat. "If you can't hold your own, you don't get a slice of the pie. Hell, you don't even get a seat at the table."
He glanced up as she turned away. The angle of the sun caught her slender figure perfectly, the backlight rendering her silhouette in a way that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
Orion squinted behind his sunglasses. Okay, I'm starting to become a believer in the lighting engine of this world.
"You jealous?" he called out to her retreating back.
"Then grind. Hit Arch Lord status. Stop sulking and start leveling."
