"Lord Ephelomon, you called for me?"
Ephelomon slowly turned. His eyes, steeped in countless ages on the battlefields of gods, were like the eternally crimson sky of Avernus—laden with disdain for life and murderous intent. They fell upon David, quietly sizing him up.
If Lizrite's murderous crimson intent, born from the Bloodscale Berserker, was a freshly sharpened blade, then Ancestor Ephelomon—who had fused madness into his very soul—was the embodiment of that murderous intent. It made David feel as if he were back on the Blood War battlefields, where a single moment of carelessness could mean instant death.
As the saying goes:
The grace of the gods is as vast as the sea,
Their might as inescapable as a prison.
Even this Red Dragon ancestor was merely a Demigod who had achieved his status through a Deification Dragon.
