Draven's red eyes darkened, and this time, he didn't look like he was going to spare the shapeshifter. Despite this, Morpheus had a grin dripping with provocation hanging on his lips.
These two men had clashed for tens, no, hundreds of times, for the past century but not once had it been truly a fight to death—it was Morpheus seeking to end his life through Draven's hands, taunting but never really engaging in real combat with Draven.
But tonight, the Divine Eagle's hollow eyes burned with determination.
"I'm suddenly reminded, we have never truly fought to death, have we? In the past, hadn't there been a conflict on who should become Agartha's protector and I let you beat me so you became king. Thousands of years have passed and maybe you have forgotten that you are not more powerful than me, Draven."
Draven said nothing to that mockery as anger had clouded his mind. All he wanted was to kill the shapeshifter in front of him.
Wham! Crash! Bang!
