Alan sat in his office, wearing a pair of small circular reading glasses. He lifted his gaze from the various bills, requests, and parchments. Asmodeus stood a few steps away, with Sariel standing a step behind him, wearing a glossy black dress.
The former hero rubbed his forehead before his lips curled into a bitter smile.
"You insist on departing first, even knowing the dangers you will face?" Alan's brow lifted as he frowned, a stern but helpless voice resounding through the room.
"Sorry, Alan… It's something I have to do, and your men need rest."
He gazed at his so-called best friend, an urge to punch him growing, as his belly grey hot with rage, knowing the dangers. Alan planned to have the Grigorian knights and army push forward together, making it easier.
'Yet this fool!'
'No…' Alan understood Asmodeus and the plans in his mind.
