Everyone turned to the direction of the shouts, looking up the lavish railings of the pristine white staircase that seemed to reach to the heavens itself, with 1,000 steps.
The one who declared this had the same skin color as the host of the party, the God Pallas. He also resembled his features, but barely.
Pallas was built to be lithe and lean, with a refined posture of a gentleman. This man was hunched as if he was always ready to pounce on anyone who tests him.
There was no other possibility to the identity of this man. He was the God of War, Violence and Destruction.
"Vesuvius." Pallas said with great distaste, still holding his goblet with a fake smile. "Why don't you join us downstairs and have a drink? You're looking quite anxious—"
"SPARE ME THE FAKE PLEASANTRIES!" He yelled, his sword that resembled Duke Taevas' on his hand.
Except this sword was larger. He was riding on the back of a large dog, not a wolf like Skollhati.
