Amos ran. He ran to his secret stash. His room would be the most obvious place for Wrath to find him.
He didn't want to be found.
He hated his life. He didn't want to die.
If Marek had deemed it fit to help him, even if it was just because of Valentius, then Amos could go there. Could protect the Nightshade. Put him on the throne.
Use his army as meat shields until he got his freedom!
But for now, Valentius was simply a fool who could easily be led by the nose. Albert was just an airhead who didn't have it in him to poison Wrath with his mana and suffer for it.
Albert wasn't going to die, Amos knew. He would have been bedridden.
Wrath would have died in seconds. Sure, Amos would have had to force Albert to chop off a finger or even get poison injected in his veins, but Wrath…
It would have been worth it.
Amos ran past the painting of Wrath cutting down the World Tree.
The nymph…
