Dyon's head tilted toward the Crimson Legion below, struggling to block his rain of red spears. Every so often, the blue spear [Torment] would appear, knocking even Dao experts back with its might.
"I'm not such a nice person, you know. This Shruti Empire happens to have a dear friend of my little cousin's here, yet your Crimson Legion is actually trying to push them into a corner. It's either you join me, or your brothers and sisters die."
"WE ARE WILLING TO DIE!"
The Crimson Legion roared up from below, not taking even a single step back.
Dyon's eyes shone. "What good warriors, valiantly protecting their Commander. But why does it seem to me that so much time has passed yet your supposed allies haven't raised a single finger to help you and your Clansmen?"
"You!" Eight's blood felt agitated. Or rather it would, if the odd little cauldron wasn't arrogantly bobbing above his head. Its ability seemed to make even his hot blood run cold.
