The air crackled with tension as Marcus Vayne strode into the guild arena, his black fur-lined coat brushing the ground. His smirk was sharp, confidence dripping from every step. Across the field stood his challenger, a famed A-tier hunter desperate to prove himself. Marcus glanced at him, amused, as he drew his sapparas, their curved, gleaming blades catching the light.

"You’re either brave or incredibly stupid," Marcus said, his voice a low, mocking drawl. "But don’t worry—I’ll make this quick. I have more important things to do."

The gong sounded, and the challenger charged. Marcus didn’t move. He waited, watching with calculated ease, and then—like a flash—he sidestepped, one blade deflecting the attack while the other slashed the hunter’s weapon in half.

The crowd gasped, but Marcus wasn’t done. In a blur, he closed the distance, his blades hovering at his opponent’s throat. "Lesson one," Marcus whispered, his sly grin widening. "You don’t challenge perfection."

The arena erupted in cheers and fear. Undefeated again, Marcus turned, sheathing his blades with a flick. "Next?" he called, his arrogance palpable. "Or has everyone learned their place?"