That infuriating calmness sent a chill crawling up Klaus's spine.
He didn't waste another breath.
A second eruption of black flames surged from his body, darker and hotter than before. They condensed in the air—twisting and folding into the shape of a sword. A blade of pure annihilation, burning with black dragon fire.
With a flick of Klaus's wrist, it flew forward.
WHOOSH!
The sword cut through the air like lightning, and in the blink of an eye, it pierced directly through Mark's forehead.
His head snapped back from the impact.
Silence descended over the hall.
Time seemed to freeze.
Everyone stared, unmoving, holding their breath.
Was it over?
Had Klaus succeeded?
For one fleeting second, it almost seemed like Mark had finally taken damage. That he could be hurt.
But then—
Mark's head slowly tilted forward again.
That same infuriating, calm smile still curled across his lips.
