I see your walls paint a living battlefield, Vixley, but I know a better arena— the grit of a real fight. How about you sketch the chaos, and I bring the steel? Let's see whose art and skill win the streets.

I respect the blood on your canvas, Vixley, but remember: the city’s pulse will bleed if it doesn’t feel the weight of steel. Keep that iron ready, and I’ll be there to give it a real roar.