Back in the dark recesses of the dungeon, Lord Victor's demeanor had changed dramatically.
The casual amusement that usually flickered in his expression had faded, replaced by a stone-like mask of emotionless focus. His hands were crossed tightly over his chest, his posture stiff, but his eyes gleamed with a sharpness that suggested deep contemplation. He no longer saw Lyerin as just a brat in a survival game—there was something more at play here, something that demanded his full attention.
He watched the magical hologram intently, tracking Lyerin's every movement with scrutinizing eyes.
The images flickered as Lyerin, covered in mud and filth, dispatched the Blast Ape guards with alarming efficiency.
The brat's attacks weren't just random strokes of luck; they were cold, calculated strikes. Lord Victor's brows furrowed as he began piecing things together.