Aamir leaned back in his chair, one hand resting lazily against the table. His crimson eyes were calm but sharp, locked on the Vampire King as the faint hum of the grand dining hall filled the silence.
"So…" Aamir said casually, tearing off a piece of roasted meat and tossing it into his mouth, "this tournament you mentioned—what's the deal? Don't tell me it's just a bunch of vampires and werewolves punching each other for bragging rights."
The Vampire King chuckled, his deep voice echoing in the hall like rolling thunder. His crimson-gold eyes gleamed with a mix of pride and seriousness.
"No, Aamir, it is far from that. This… is no ordinary competition."
In the back of his mind, Luman's voice stirred, calm but sharp as ever.
"Host, I recommend you pay close attention. This sounds… dangerous."
Aamir smirked faintly, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. "Dangerous is good. I was getting bored anyway."
The Vampire King leaned forward slightly, his expression turning solemn.
