Trafalgar stood frozen, the air in the cramped bathroom thick with tension. Just a few feet away, the girl with the long, sleek white hair had her bow drawn tight again, the shimmering mana string humming faintly. The first arrow had already left a shallow cut across his cheek, and a thin line of blood traced down to his jaw.
'Shit… she's got deadly aim. Another one like that and it will leave my head like the black horse's...'
"Let go of my brother," she said sharply, her yellow eyes locked onto him. "Last warning."
Trafalgar slowly lifted his hand from the boy's soaked shoulder, taking one deliberate step back.
"Look at what you've done to him…" she continued, her tone dripping with accusation.
She adjusted her aim, the bow lowering slightly — not toward his head this time, but toward his leg. He could see in her eyes she meant to wound him, to make sure he couldn't follow.
