Enel's eyes darted around, scanning the powerful figures before him. Some had already begun activating their abilities, and the air crackled with overwhelming energy. If these warriors were even half as strong as their legends claimed—if they were anything like Alexander the Great—then he was in serious trouble.
He took a slow step backward. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to run, but his mind kept working, desperately trying to find a way out.
King Solomon let out a tired sigh, as if disappointed by Enel's resistance. Then, with a weary smile, he extended his hand toward him.
"Lenny, be reasonable," Solomon said, his voice calm but firm. "Hand over the scepter. If you do that, things can still change. You can still stay here, where you belong."
Enel's gaze dropped to the scepter in his grasp. He had no idea why Solomon was so fixated on it. Why did it mean so much to him? It was more than just a symbol of power—he could tell that much.
Then, suddenly, it clicked.
