Logan looked at the two demons. They began to shiver under his and Narok's gaze. The large dragon, still fuming after failing to defeat a demon general despite its long-lived age, snarled low.
[Relax, Narok. You've never been as powerful or as large as you are now, right? Fix that—and when the war comes, don't fail me then.]
The dragon growled and stepped away before taking flight, clearly still throwing a tantrum.
Logan wasn't mad. He understood the creature's feelings. He himself just wanted to punch something—anything.
"So, tell me. What were you actually doing here? Did you really come just to fight the darkness spirit, or what?" Logan asked, his voice sharp.
He cracked his whip against the ground. He could've struck the demons directly, but they would likely die if he did.
"Z'thul venak kra'shor!"
The demons kept repeating the same guttural phrase.
Logan was tired of hearing their harsh voices. He turned away and waited for the others—they were only a few meters off now.
