Chapter 123:Teaching Them A Lesson
Before Berat’s fingers could brush against Lyria, a suffocating chill spread through the air. It wasn’t the winter cold—this was something far worse. A dangerous, unnatural pressure settled over the bonfire gathering, making the rowdy laughter die in an instant.
Lyria’s head tilted slightly, her empty, icy eyes finally settling on Berat. Her gaze alone was enough to make even a seasoned warrior like him hesitate, but the alcohol in his blood dulled his instincts. He sneered, trying to regain his arrogance.
"What?" He chuckled darkly. "Don’t tell me you’re shy now? Come on, demon bitch, don’t play hard to get—"
Before anyone could react, Lyria moved. She didn’t lunge, didn’t make a grand gesture—she simply lifted her hand and, in one fluid motion, grabbed Berat’s outstretched wrist.
Then, with a sickening crack, she twisted.
"GURGHHH!"
Berat howled, his knees buckling as his wrist snapped like a dry twig. He fell forward, clutching his arm, his drunken confidence gone, replaced by sheer agony.
The soldiers around the fire froze. Some flinched, some instinctively reached for their weapons, but none dared to move. The way Lyria stood—completely calm, emotionless, as if breaking a man’s bones was no different than swatting a fly—made their blood run cold.
"You’re noisy," Lyria murmured, her voice devoid of warmth.
Berat gritted his teeth, face twisted in pain. "Y-You crazy bitch! I’ll fucking—"
Another snap.