Xanqer's eyes gleamed with a malevolent intensity, expecting Meesha to cower in fear or flee in terror. But instead, she stood tall, her voice steady and unwavering as she said, "I'm not afraid of you."

  The words hung in the air like a challenge, catching Xanqer off guard. For a moment, his mask of confidence slipped, and he was taken aback by her bravery. His eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing as he struggled to comprehend her audacity.

  How could she be so oblivious to the terror he inspired? He was a murderer, a ruthless killer who had claimed thousands of souls. His very presence made the bravest warriors tremble with fear. The wind itself seemed to whisper warnings of his approach, and the earth shook beneath his feet.

  And yet, Meesha stood before him, her eyes flashing with defiance, her voice dripping with conviction. It was almost...amusing.

  Xanqer's smile grew, his lips curling upward in a cold, mirthless grin. "Since you're so brave, let me show you what I'm capable of."

  Xanqer's hand hovered in the air, his fingers poised to snap with a deadly precision. With a snap of his fingers, Meesha would crumble to the floor and die.

  Meesha's gaze remained fixed on Xanqer's hand, her eyes widening in anticipation.

  With a swift, economical motion, Xanqer attempted to snap his fingers. But they refused to budge. His fingers trembled with the effort, his hand shaking as if palsied. A furrow creased his brow, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

  Meesha's gaze remained fixed on Xanqer's hand, her eyes filled with curiosity. She seemed entranced by the spectacle, her body leaning forward slightly.

  Xanqer's face twisted in a snarl, his lips curling back in frustration. He struggled to snap his fingers, his hand jerking spasmodically. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

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  It wasn't that he was physically unable; it was as if some unseen force was holding him back. Xanqer's confusion deepened, his mind racing with questions. Why couldn't he snap his fingers? What was stopping him?

  The silence between them grew thicker, heavier, until it seemed to take on a life of its own. Xanqer's hand remained suspended, his fingers trembling with the effort, as the tension between them reached a breaking point.

  Meesha's gaze met Xanqer's, her eyes sparkling with a childlike innocence. "What are you trying to do?" she asked, her voice tinged with genuine confusion, her brow furrowed in a delicate crescent.

  Xanqer's expression faltered, his eyes narrowing in surprise, as if he'd been expecting fear, or terror, or at the very least, a hint of submission. But Meesha's naivety caught him off guard, and for a moment, he was at a loss.

  Then, like a mask slipping back into place, his expression returned, his eyes narrowing, his jaw clenched. "I'm trying to kill you," he growled, his voice low and menacing, the words dripping with malice.

  But instead of the expected fear, Meesha's face lit up with amusement. She laughed, a melodious sound that was both infectious and jarring, given the circumstances. Her giggles were like a sprinkle of sunshine on a dark day, and Xanqer's frown deepened, his eyes flashing with irritation.

  Was she testing his patience? Was she really challenging him? Xanqer's mind whirled with questions, his anger simmering just below the surface. He took a step closer to Meesha, his movements fluid, almost predatory. "You think it's funny?" he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "You think death is amusing?"

  Meesha's laughter slowly subsided, and she looked up at Xanqer, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Oh, no," she said, her voice still tinged with amusement. "I just thought it was... cute... how you're trying to kill me."

  The word hung in the air, a palpable thing, and Xanqer's eyes widened in shock. Cute? Was she insane? He felt a spark of anger ignite within him, but Meesha's expression remained serene, almost playful.

  Xanqer's anger boiled over, and he slammed Meesha against the wall with a loud thud. The sound echoed through the air, but Meesha's gaze remained steady, her expression still radiating a childlike innocence. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, rather than fear, as she looked up at Xanqer.

  Xanqer's face twisted in a snarl, and he raised his hands, revealing sharp, long claws that gleamed in the dim light. The air seemed to vibrate with tension as he growled, "Do you think this is cute?"

  Meesha's eyes widened as she stared at the claws, her brow furrowed in wonder. She wasn't scared; she was bewildered, fascinated by the way Xanqer's body seemed to transform before her eyes. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she reached out a hand, hesitantly touching the tip of the claw with her fingers.

  Xanqer was stunned, his eyes locking onto Meesha's hand as if mesmerized. He frowned, the muscles in his face tensing. He retreated his claws back in, but not quickly enough. The sharp edge sliced through Meesha's thumb and second finger, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

  Meesha's eyes dropped to her injured hand, and her gaze lingered on the crimson stains. Her eyes welled up with tears, and she looked up at Xanqer, her expression wronged and vulnerable.

  Xanqer raised an eyebrow, his face a mask of incredulity. How dare she look at him like that? What right did she have to feel wronged?