The Academy's Advanced Combat Hall smelled like ozone and burnt parchment.
Draven leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, watching the new professor set up her demonstration. Three weeks since his uncle Aldric took to his deathbed. Two weeks since the healers confirmed what everyone already knew—terminal, maybe a month left. One week since his cousin Marcus started strutting around the Arclight estate like he already owned the fucking place.
Which, legally, he would. Unless Draven killed him first.
No fear about that. No doubt. Just cold calculation.
[System Notice: You seem focused. I like it. Also, there's a very attractive older woman arranging fire runes thirty feet away and giving you the eye.]
I noticed.
[System Notice: Just checking. Your murder-planning face and your seduction face look identical these days.]
