"Hah… what the hell are you talking about, boy?" Mary scoffed with an amused tone. She couldn't believe Aether was trying such pathetic, cunning tricks in the middle of their fight.
After all, she had witnessed firsthand just how tricky he could be. He would stoop to anything, twist any truth, and stab with words sharper than his blades if it meant winning. His voice was like a serpent's hiss — and anyone foolish enough to fall for it would be swallowed whole, never to rise again.
Aether rubbed his forehead with a tired, almost mocking expression. "I cannot believe you are this dumb, Mary," he muttered, his voice filled with disappointment and scorn.
Mary frowned, her hand tightening around the hilt of her blood-red sword. "Bitch, please. I know you're scared of figh—" Before she could finish, Aether raised his hand casually, pointing directly toward Morgana once more.
"I received some juicy news about her… from Victor," he said with deliberate pause.
