It was their first meeting since Clea had sealed Agaroth's power, preventing him from devouring any more strength.
Contrary to all expectations, Agaroth had remained astonishingly active ever since. He had built himself a magnificent fortress—one grand enough to amaze even Frey, who had spent most of his life within the Great Council of Writers.
The chamber Agaroth claimed for himself resembled a laboratory.
It was enormous, cluttered with countless strange objects piled haphazardly upon one another, creating complete chaos.
At the center of that disorder stood the broken man who bore the power of Devouring, manipulating streams of dark energy between his hands.
Slowly turning toward Frey, their eyes met.
Neither of them spoke.
Silence lingered between them for several long moments before a mocking smile slowly spread across Agaroth's face.
"I thought you'd never come back."
"And yet... here you are."
"Standing before me."
