"Ignarok, you came alone this time?" Malgrath turned his gaze toward Ignarok, his eyes glowing with a dangerous, blood-red gleam, like molten amber—pure demonic menace.
"Just dropping by for a little fun," Ignarok replied with a casual shrug.
"The war at sea is over. We won. And under the terms of victory, I'm not allowed to intervene anymore—especially not with troops," Malgrath said, his voice calm but edged with warning. "But..." He trailed off.
Then Ignarok suddenly grinned, wide and wicked.
"...But I brought along 200 units of Tier-14 Mythic-class Inferno Arch Devils."
He laughed, loud and unbothered, the sound echoing like a madman's cackle.
"Not a huge force, sure—but it should be enough, right?"
"So, who am I up against? Don't tell me it's those pathetic Tidesworn again. Fighting them is a joke. Total waste of time."
Malgrath's tone stayed cool. "Who do you want to fight? Mikael from the Castle faction? Cain? Or Elyrgaard from the Tower?"