At the battlefield, the smoke finally cleared.
The magus stood tall.
His skin had returned to its normal pale tone.
The demonic traits were gone and the horn had disappeared.
His sharp blue eyes locked onto the dying Krell Alpha dangling in his grasp.
He now looked more like a highborn elf than a demon.
"Now tell me everything you know about that traveler," he said.
The Krell Alpha had no limbs left.
His arms and legs were torn away.
His torso was a broken shell.
The magus held him up by the neck with one hand.
His other arm was plunged deep into the Alpha's chest.
"Kekeke… What traveler?
Do you mean the other outsiders?
Why should I tell you anything?" the Alpha rasped.
Despite his condition, his voice held pride.
His tone was mocking.
Even in the face of death, he refused to grovel.
He was still an Alpha.
Dying was better than submission.
"Tch.
Foolish choice," the magus muttered.
His lips curled into a sharp grin.
