Malgarius glared at Lilith, fury radiating from his crimson eyes. The raw disrespect burned hotter than any wound. She still wasn't taking him seriously—that smug, unshakable calm of hers mocked him with every breath, and it made his rage boil over.
"Empress," he spat, the word twisted between reverence and venom. His voice thundered like a war-drum, each syllable carrying a shockwave that tore through the battlefield. The already shattered Chained Pits groaned in agony as entire cliffs collapsed into themselves, the fetid rivers below turning wild with turbulence. Their battle had long since erased the ground; now, they floated amidst a storm of ruin and collapsing stone, suspended above a wasteland they had created.
Lilith, with her wings spread wide tilted her head. For the first time, her eyes softened—just a fraction. "Malgarius," she said, her voice a low hymn that echoed with strange sorrow, "you are my first creation. Do you truly wish to take this path to the end?"
