Grevor glared at Orson, his hands trembling, bloodlust radiating like a storm cloud.
"I said it—anyone who threatens me dies."
Orson, still facing away from the group, replied coldly.
The thunderclouds above churned violently, forming what looked like a massive, pitch-black pupil seething with destructive fury.
Soon, crimson lightning began to ripple through the clouds. Flame Fosset and the others turned pale—they hadn't expected Orson to go this far, dragging everyone down with him.
"My lord…" Veijander opened his mouth to speak.
Orson frowned and cut him off. "Shut it."
Bound by the master-servant contract, Veijander could only grit his teeth and hold his tongue.
Grevor snapped, "Flame Fosset, this is your precious disciple? He's trying to take us all to hell with him!"