The air between Lucius and Pope Innocent grew impossibly heavy, charged with a dark energy that seemed to seep into the ground and sky alike. The once-pristine figure of the Pope stood still, his white robes fluttering faintly in the ominous breeze.
Lucius twirled his scythe with casual menace, his glowing eyes fixed on the so-called holy man.
"The Lord shall—"
"Spare me your sanctimonious nonsense," Lucius growled, his voice cutting through the silence like the edge of a blade. "Now that my true power has awakened, I can see through the pathetic façade you hide behind."
The Pope's serene smile didn't falter. "
Such arrogance, Lord of the Dead. And yet, it's that very arrogance that will lead to your downfall."
Lucius raised his scythe slightly, pointing it at the Pope with disdain. "Enough. Reveal your true self. Or must I drag it out of you?"
