"Do not worry about me."
Aurex's smooth blond hair was clenched in Orson's fist, yet he laughed madly at Taran. "Three for one, we win."
"You son of a bitch."
Orson's face went dark as night. He did not exactly hate Aurex, and it was Taran who led the descent of the gods, but this idiot was hellbent on throwing his life away.
"My brother," Taran murmured, murder boiling in his eyes.
He had inherited a high god-seed. If his plan held, he would rise above the Pantheon Sanctum and seize a shot at ruling the galaxy.
Earth was merely the beginning.
But Godslayer kept standing in his way, blocking his grand design again and again. His patience was gone.
Aurex knew it well. If Godslayer lost these three in front of him, it would be like severing Orson's arms.
One Aurex for three. Not a loss at all.
"Do not hesitate. Kill them," Aurex howled, handsome face twisted like a hound from hell.
