Before unleashing their full fury against the Archangel, both Orous and Hajack flicked their eyes toward the butler-like figure. There was no mistaking it—Emanon radiated a strange, alien aura, unlike anything either Lord had ever encountered. Yet they could not afford distraction.
Emanon's gaze lingered on them for a fleeting moment, calm and detached, before he turned to the Archangel and bowed lightly.
"I have fulfilled my duty, Lord Metatron, and brought you to the tomb of the Primordial God. I wish you nothing but victory."
With those words, he began to retreat, each step deliberate, making it clear he had no intention of being dragged into the blood-soaked battle.
Metatron's face remained cold and impassive, unbothered by the departure. To him, it was irrelevant. He needed no one. He was the pinnacle, the Voice of Heaven, and alone he could obliterate all opposition.
