Mabel instinctively stepped back, tension still coiled in her muscles, but Galen had already assessed her. His sharp eyes took in her uniform and posture in a single glance, and just like that, the killing intent in the air faded—but the edge in his presence remained.
Queen's Royal Corps. That was the only reason she was still breathing. If she hadn't been one of Lucy's, her head would've already been rolling. After all, Galen had just come from the summit—he wasn't in the mood for patience.
"Know your target before you strike," Galen said, his tone flat and unbothered as he strolled deeper into the room like he owned it. "Or next time, it won't be a warning."
"Apologies, Sir Magna. It won't happen again," Mabel murmured, the weight of his aura finally lifting.
"No need to apologize," Galen replied coolly. "You were just doing your job, guarding this fragile excuse of a student."
