"Enough!!" Robin raised both his hands high, his voice rolling like thunder across the battlefield, and his gaze locked unflinchingly with that of the Specter King. "We do not seek war, and you do not wish to see more of your soldiers crushed and scattered… we will withdraw if you allow it!"
From the depths of Robin's soul, there was nothing he wished more than for this towering entity to accept such a truce. He had not come to the Specter Valley Planet to lock horns with local monarchs in duels of life and death—he had come to harvest units of soul essence, to seize a chance for breakthrough, to advance his path forward. A meaningless clash here was not his desire.
"A strong soul…" The Specter King's voice was deep, like a cavern filled with echoes. His hollow gaze slid from Robin's head to his feet, weighing, measuring. "You shall become my right hand, once I tear the chains that holds you in that materialistic weak body."
