There Is No Leaving

Xairo's eyes narrowed at Dracun's challenge, a dangerous glint flickering in their emerald depths. For a moment, he was tempted to lash out, to prove his superiority despite his injuries. But something held him back - perhaps the realization that such a display would only reveal his own insecurities.

Instead, he forced a smirk onto his face, baring his sharp canines in a mockery of amusement. "You think so, do you?" he drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. But even as the words left his mouth, Xairo felt a twinge of uncertainty. What if Dracun could beat him? What if his injuries had weakened him more than he cared to admit?

Xairo felt the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, pushing aside the ache of his wounds. His smirk widened, becoming more genuine as he embraced the challenge. "Very well, brother," he growled, his voice low and tinged with anticipation. "Let's see if you can back up that bravado."

Without warning, Xairo lunged at Dracun, his powerful frame coiled and ready to strike. But even as he moved, he was acutely aware of the newly imposed limitations. His movements, usually fluid and precise, felt sluggish and uncoordinated. The torn flesh along his side screamed in protest as he twisted, attempting to grapple with the other brute.

"Xairo Saxe"