Gangster Hybrid

We see them in the training room, Draven and Alex stood ready to spar. "I heard you can't use mana," Alex said, "so I won't either."

Draven smirked. "You're gonna need it."

"For someone who can't use mana, you sure are arrogant," Alex shot back.

"For an old lady, you sure talk a lot," Draven retorted.

Alex's smile turned predatory. "For a brat, you sure have a big mouth."

"Grandma, why don't you stop yapping and come at me already?" Draven taunted.

"I think it's about time I shut that mouth of yours," Alex said, her voice dangerously low. She blurred into motion, appearing in front of Draven with astonishing speed. Her dagger slashed sideways.

Draven reacted instantly, adopting a boxer's stance. He threw a punch, his fist colliding with the flat of her blade. The training room became a blur of motion as they exchanged blows with incredible speed. After a furious flurry, Alex jumped back, a smirk playing on her lips.

"For someone so arrogant, you aren't that strong," she observed.

Draven's hands were a mangled mess, bones visible through the shredded flesh. He calmly walked towards Alex, his wounds knitting themselves back together with astonishing speed. He flexed his newly healed hands. "That was just a warm-up."

Alex's smile widened. "For a hybrid, your ability to regenerate is outstanding."

Draven's eyes glowed red. "Cut the small talk. Let's continue." He vanished.

Alex's eyes widened in shock. What the—? I thought he didn't have any mana! How can he move so fast? Before she could react, Draven reappeared beside her, a fist rocketing towards her side. She barely managed to dodge, using shadow magic to teleport a short distance away.

Draven straightened up, his expression mocking. "Hey, grandma, I thought you said you weren't going to use any mana."

"I was just caught off guard," Alex grumbled.

"grandma, are you that old that your body is failing you?" Draven continued to taunt.

Alex's face flushed with anger. "Okay, brat, now I'm going to get serious!" She leaped into the air, bringing her dagger down in a vicious arc. Draven blocked the blow with his hands, and the battle resumed with renewed ferocity.

The clash of steel and the thud of blows echoed through the training room as they fought. Just as Alex lunged for a decisive strike, a maid entered the room.

"Young Master," she announced, "the Lord requests your presence."

They stopped fighting. Draven's clothes were stained with blood, and the floor was splattered with crimson.

"Just when I was about to win," Alex complained.

"You wish, granny ," Draven retorted.

"Stop calling me that! I'm still young!" Alex protested.

"Since when does a forty-year-old consider themselves young?" Draven teased.

"I'm not forty, I'm thirty-nine!" Alex insisted.

"Same thing," Draven shrugged.

"As a dark elf, I'm still young for my age!"

Ignoring her, Draven turned to the maid. "Go bring me a change of clothes."

The maid stared at him, speechless. "Did you… did you just ignore me?" Alex sputtered.