Two figures stepped through the rift.
One was a woman clad in white and red armor, her crimson spear glinting like liquid fire.
The other was an ashen-haired man, his eyes burning with an all-consuming fury—so intense that it seemed he could set the world ablaze with his will alone.
Northern spoke without looking at them.
"I hope it wasn't bothersome to call upon you so soon after finishing a tough battle."
Jeci cracked her neck, the bones popping like breaking twigs, a smile curling her lips—a demented nun in a battlefield of the damned.
"Not at all, My Lord." She exhaled with a soft chuckle. "We didn't get much of a chance to be of significant use in that fight. It was beyond our league."
She cast a sideways glance at Lynus, whose face remained frozen in unrelenting fury.
He said nothing.
Northern was silent for a moment.