He was surprised.
"You're alive?" the elf king muttered, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "You are a demon candidate, are you not? What business have you in the affairs of elves?"
Arthur's response was resolute. "I stand with Freya," he declared, his voice firm and unwavering.
The elf king's gaze narrowed, a hint of amusement flickering across his face. "Bold words from one so young," he mused.
"Let us see if you have the strength to back them up."
Without hesitation, the elf king raised his hands, conjuring a tempest of earth and wind that hurtled towards Arthur. Dark Sister gleamed as Arthur met the onslaught head-on, weaving through the storm with practiced grace.
Freya seized the opportunity, launching her own assault from the side. Energy crackled around her as she unleashed a barrage of magical projectiles, each one aimed with precision. The throne room echoed with the clash of spells and steel.
