"Are you satisfied, Lord Azazel?" Beliar smiled happily. As the President's corpse lay at his feet, he established a mental connection with Azazel. There was pride in his voice. He was proud of the masterpiece he had created.
"Well done, Beliar. You've exceeded expectations with your performance, but now you'll face something greater." Azazel grinned slyly. Beliar furrowed his brows in confusion, listening to Azazel's words. Azazel continued. "Someone is coming to stop you, Beliar. A powerful and invincible man. Someone familiar, too."
"Who could it be?" Beliar asked arrogantly. He wasn't afraid of this so-called threat. Among these weaklings, no one even dared to meet his gaze. They were all like cockroaches: numerous but frail, much like the inferior races.
