A demon prince walked brazenly through the Night Elf residential district, his presence commanding attention. His name was Zilvagias. With his ominous curved horns, well-balanced physique, sharp features, and a sneering, arrogant smile, he cut an imposing figure.
Despite the cautious, polite, yet distant gazes of the Night Elves, Zilvagias strolled confidently, seeming to relish in their discomfort. In his arms was the High Elf holy maiden, Liliana, now reduced to a state of near helplessness, having lost her limbs.
When they had left the dungeons, she had been following him eagerly on all fours, barking like a dog, but that changed once they entered the residential area. Now, exposed to the scornful, hateful gazes of the Night Elves, Liliana had frozen in fear and was unable to move. Thus, Zilvagias had no choice but to carry her. Even then, her fear remained; she buried her face into his chest, trembling as the Night Elves' eyes bore into her.
