As Alaric stepped out of Edenael, his expression remained unreadable, his mind already set on the next step of his plan. The midday sun hung high in the sky, casting sharp shadows across the bustling streets of Metreon Star. He walked with purpose, his golden sword gleaming under the bright light, his gaze focused ahead. Then, as he passed through a narrow alley, he came to a halt.
Leaning against the sun-warmed stone wall, her arms crossed, stood Azrael, one of the Blasphemies. Her piercing crimson eyes glowed faintly under the shade, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "You're early," she murmured, her voice like silk laced with venom.
Alaric didn't bother with pleasantries. "Tell Zedric and the rest to begin. I want the heads of the heavenly families hunted down. No delays. No mistakes."
Azrael chuckled, pushing herself off the wall. "You make it sound easy," she teased, her tone mocking. "But fine. It will be done."
