"Uncle Hell!"
Claude and Samael didn't have the time to chat after the former's call as both of them leaped from their spot, dodging the black threads that came right above them. While midair, Claude's eyes snapped open at the gigantic threads that were akin to whirlpools coming to life, destroying a part of the arena in the Colosseum.
"Holy…" Claude gasped as his eyes widened even more. He looked up, searching for Samael's figure, and found him in a distance, also in the air. "Uncle Hell!"
Samael simply cast Claude a look. "Man, look at you. How the hell did you think you can steal my wife if you're dead, boy?"
"What?"
"Good thing I rush in here when I fucking sense that guy's rotten smell." Samael gazed down at Tristan Willow, spatting out to the side the moment he locked eyes with the latter. "There you fucking are, Quentin."
