Lifting his chin, Ivrim appraisingly looked at the young man, who was in his eyes still like a child who had just torn himself away from his mother and yet he throws such loud statements.
- I believe that Raphael really does not need anyone's help, however, if I were you, child, I would not be so proud and arrogant. How many witches have you fought? - Ivrim asked calmly, without raising his voice a bit.
- There were enough of them for me to assess my capabilities. - Terrence replied.
- What happens when you face your own mother? Will you be as confident in your words, in your abilities? - The corner of the elf's lip twitched slightly. – Are you silent? That's right, you can't do anything with what you have now, and all because you won't even have time to get close to her when her henchmen send you to rot in the bowels of the earth.
- Your Majesty! - Artemis raised her voice, interrupting the monologue.
