Lyon's footsteps echoed through the aftermath of the battlefield, each step resonating with an air of unyielding confidence. As he bid farewell to Rakumtatak, a smirk danced upon his lips, a silent promise hanging in the charged atmosphere.
"I will inform you when we strike Nifelheim," Lyon declared, his voice carrying the weight of impending doom. With a nonchalant turn, he left Rakumtatak behind, the words lingering in the air like a vengeful echo.
Rakumtatak, on the other hand, couldn't help but chuckle heartily at Lyon's parting words. "Don't be too long, he might die of a heart attack before you could kill him," he laughed, turning away from the direction Lyon had taken. His stride remained unbroken, and he was swiftly greeted by his lineage, the patriarch of the Orc Clan.
"P-Progenitor, congratulations on the massive victory," stammered the patriarch, awe evident in his eyes.
