Negris blinked, looked at Ange, then at the scythe, and asked in confusion, "Why are you trying to chop it down? It's not the Demonic Monument. It's just a stele, aren't you mistaking it for Turus again?"
If Turus' soul knew about this, it probably would regret its past actions. Ange's grudge from his burned fields hasn't been forgotten.
But Ange didn't pay any attention to it, instead, he was carefully observing. He raised both feet, where Soul Flame surged, slowly pacing with every step leaving a flaming footprint on the ground.
Looking at Ange's stance, Negris was skeptical. Before it could say anything, some smoke appeared from nearby, and a face formed, giving an awkward laugh, "Hehe, been a while. How have you all been?"
"Lord of Terror!" Negris' eyes popped open wide. Not only was there a literal demon, but it was an old acquaintance - the Lord of Terror.
