The Synarch

Everyone at the table looked at Li expectantly, for at the end of the day, his word was what was going to start moving things along. One thing was for certain. He could not abandon the march west.

It seemed counter-intuitive, considering he had just been informed about a massive disaster to the north and especially considering his personal vendetta against the weaponry, but, all things considered, a massively powerful demon army about to release an eldritch entity that no doubt was Noctus was going to be a much, much, much more difficult thing to handle than a few missiles.

At the end of the day, missiles were just that: missiles. With his powers, he could intercept them. Send them away. Disable them. And so on and so forth. That was the beauty and power of magic. But an actual Old One?