"Hmm. Not too shabby if I must say. Quite the perfect talent for me," Aaron muttered, his face maintaining a neutral expression that betrayed none of the excitement bubbling within him, like a calm sea hiding turbulent depths.
[Why have a poker face? You are literally screaming in your mind]
"The world doesn't need to know that. I need to keep my reputation intact," he replied inwardly, his thoughts a whirlwind of restrained glee amid the ancient stones of the amphitheater that still echoed with the remnants of his transformation.
"So, old man. Ready to have a spar with your favorite descendant?" Aaron faced Dracula, his voice carrying a challenge laced with playful confidence, eyes gleaming under the ethereal lights that cast long shadows across the tiered seats.
"Don't you have something to do?" Dracula asked, his tone flat and dismissive, declining Aaron's request without a hint of hesitation, his ancient gaze fixed on the horizon as if weighing unseen burdens.
