"I think I finally understand," Bruce said, voice calm yet laced with contempt, "why that old bastard Stephen treats you like a thorn in his side. Why he's so desperate to wipe you out—no matter the cost."
"Cut the damn chatter," Alan growled, eyes blazing. "If you want to fight, then bring it. If not, get the hell out of my way!"
He immediately activated his vital energy, hastening to repair the damage within his body. But he could clearly feel it—the Stone of Sage, which stored his reserves, had already been drained by more than half over the course of today's relentless battles.
At this rate, he'd burn through all of it long before this fight ended.
Alan clenched his jaw. From now on, he couldn't afford to waste vital energy like this. It would have to be reserved strictly for moments of absolute life and death—those rare opportunities when a turnaround meant survival.
As he was thinking, Alan caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye.
