The young man smirked after he finished pouring the fine wine into his cup and then looked at the old man in front of him," You clearly know that I'm here to ask you to join my clan again. However, I'm bringing you with me this time, and you have no say in the matter."
Under the table, Abaddon's nails could be seen clearly getting stabbed into his hand's palm, blood dripping out of them with each passing second.
This is the feeling that he most hated and despised.
The feeling that he always wants to get rid of.
Helplessness!
Weakness!
His life was in the hands of others, not on his own, choosing to get rid of him and kill him whenever they were done with him.
Something like this, Abaddon really hated, and fury burned inside of him; he couldn't wait to regain his past strength and strangle this young man in front of him.
