"Tell me, what do you want?"
Kairon's voice was gravelly and torn, thick with a suppressed weight. It was the hoarse rumble of a volcano on the verge of erupting, the result of sheer will holding back a tidal wave of desperate longing and anticipation.
"Kill the Insect Queen!"
"And if possible, once you rule this world, spare us a few crumbs from your table."
Compared to Kairon, the cloaked figure was impossibly calm, as detached as a passing breeze.
What Kairon couldn't see was the swirling mix of disdain, contempt, and pity hidden deep within the cloaked stranger's eyes.
To the figure in black, Kairon was utterly powerless.
Those words were nothing but lies—empty promises meant to manipulate.
"Is this all I have to give?"
Kairon stood up. Step by step, slowly but resolutely, he walked toward The Chapter of the Profane and the Fel Fruit.
Kairon didn't actually care, because in truth, he was paying no price at all.
