The great serpentine dragon, Jormungand, gazed upon his brother, Fenrir, who stood before him, his body covered in bruises and cuts. The battlefield was a desolate wasteland, the air thick with the stench of blood and the echoes of battle cries.
Unlike when they were fighting in heaven, it was totally different when they were fighting in the first dimension, as their mana and blood and every single bit of waste that excreted from their bodies affected nature and sometimes, it gave birth to different monsters and different abnormalities.
Jormungand's deep, resonant voice carried a tinge of concern as he spoke, his sapphire eyes filled with worry. "Fourth, look at you. You're battered and broken. It's only been a day, and yet you refuse to give up. I implore you, to surrender now and spare yourself further agony. And don't keep me here,"
