The courtyard of the central academy was a mess of shattered crystal and evaporating arcane blood.
Lucifer stood opposite the Avatar of the Goddess of Magic. The Level 90 deity had lowered her hands, choosing diplomacy over a localized apocalypse. It was the smart play.
"I am listening," the Goddess stated, her glowing white eyes devoid of emotion but sharp with calculation. "What do you want, Lucifer of Obsidian?"
"I want to go shopping," Lucifer replied smoothly.
He didn't draw a weapon. He crossed his iron gauntlets over his dark leather breastplate.
"Your city is the oldest magical academy in the cosmos," Lucifer continued, his voice echoing lightly in the silent, blue-lit courtyard. "You hoard the highest-tier alchemy formulas. I need them. I have a massive army of mortals and machines that require continuous, high-grade consumable support. Standard health potions from terrestrial clerics aren't going to cut it against Primordial threats."
