As Deathstalker walked into the castle, his menacing presence did not go unnoticed. Inside, he found Devon, surrounded by a group of pirates adorned in crimson robes. Devon frowned as he gazed at the intruder.
"Who are you, and what brings you to my castle?" Devon demanded, his voice filled with authority.
Deathstalker, his black and gray hair framing his stern face, calmly took a few steps forward. His hands remained casually behind his back as he addressed Devon.
"We have a common enemy," he replied in a tone that brooked no argument.
Devon couldn't help but snicker at Deathstalker's audacity.
"From where I stand," he retorted, "it looks like you came to my island uninvited, attacked my pirates, and waltzed into my castle. That, my friend, makes you appear as the enemy."
Deathstalker, his demeanor unwavering, responded with a calm, cunning chuckle. "I am not one to ask for appointments." His words carried a veiled threat.
