Then he hurled the man into the wall, where he crashed and fell unconscious in a heap of shattered shells and blood.
The room had become a battlefield.
A wave of golden Qi flickered around Kent as he stood between Neela and the assassins.
Suddenly—footsteps echoed.
The door burst open.
"Kent!" came a voice.
Prince Varun, clad in ceremonial armor, rushed in, followed closely by Nyara, whose eyes immediately fell on the trembling form of her cousin.
"Neela!" Nyara gasped, running to her side.
Varun froze midstep as he looked around the room—smoldering corpses, shattered talismans, blood on the coral walls—and Kent standing, shirt torn, still radiating heat, like a war god risen from flames.
"What in the heavens…" Varun whispered.
Kent didn't answer. He dropped to one knee beside Neela.
She was pale, barely breathing, but alive.
Nyara checked her pulse and wept. "She'll recover… you were just in time."
Varun looked at Kent again, this time not with judgment—but awe.
