"Are you really a baby?!"
Grugrim's voice cracked across the battlefield, ragged but full of bite.
Malik's snarl came instantly, flames flaring higher across his body, dancing with fury."Shut up!" he snapped.
But Grugrim didn't flinch.
Instead, he tilted his head, studying the young demon with a smug, knowing look. The gaze of a man who had just jabbed straight into a festering wound—and hit it clean.
His words had landed.
Hard.
Not just as an insult.
They rang true.
Grugrim scoffed, shaking his head like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.The comment had been tossed out to provoke… but it struck deeper than expected.
Because truth had a way of cutting sharper than any blade.
Malik was acting like a baby.
Not just because of his rage.
But because of his hesitation.
The way he moved—like someone who expected to win just because of who he was.
Like a spoiled child too used to winning without effort. Toying with his enemy. Dodging real danger.
