The projection of the Great Mage stared down at Lucifer.
The old man in the azure robes did not look intimidated by the dark-armored Warlord floating in the vacuum of space. He looked mildly offended.
"Lucifer of Obsidian," the Great Mage scoffed, the massive holographic face twisting into a sneer. "We have heard the rumors. The mortal who tripped a dying god and claimed the sky. You think because you bullied some incompetent knights and a cowardly prince that you can simply walk into the oldest academy in the cosmos and make demands?"
"I don't make demands," Lucifer stated smoothly, the Blade of Ruin resting casually against his shoulder. "I issue invoices."
The Great Mage laughed. It was a dry, grating sound.
