The winds over the wasteland howled like wolves.
Liergu stood with his arms folded across his chest, his sharp eyes scanning the distant wilderness beyond Amestris City's walls. A faint smirk curled across his face, touched with arrogance and a hint of boredom.
"Which one of you feels like taking action this time?" he asked casually, his tone more like a man discussing the weather than an impending battle.
The last time, he'd slain an ancient barbaric beast single-handedly — and his fame in Amestris had exploded overnight. Songs had been sung in taverns. His name whispered with awe. He could still taste the glory.
But that was last time.
"I'm not interested," came the cold, metallic rasp of the flying corpse — the sound of rusted iron grinding against iron.
"I'll handle it," Dorian replied, his voice soft but firm. "Can't let you have all the fun, can I?"
