A confident voice echoed through the picturesque golden halls of the Royal Palace.
"To think you would be this strong, even after your accident, Verda."
The source of the voice was a tall, dark-skinned Djinn resembling Marduke with a more sculpted and condensed muscular body. His black hair was folded over like a mohawk, with the sides of his head shaved.
His fiery eyes locked on the valiant woman standing opposite him, several bodies lying around the room, both shadow guard and Balthazar warriors.
"Malachite!"
Verda grunted his name through tightly closed teeth, biting down with a sour expression as if dealing with the most foul scent in the world.
"I see you still hold a grudge, wife!"
The man with purple skin laughed, holding a massive broadsword at her face, "Surrender! Come to my side and rule this land with me. Wife."
