Jack's discerning gaze remained fixed on Warren, the Council member, amid the chaos, demonstrating an unwavering focus.
Warren's blue tattoos flowed across his skin in continuous streams, water mana responding to his elevated stress levels as he prepared for combat against an opponent who'd just demonstrated fire immunity and commanded thirty thousand demons.
"Before we begin," Jack maintained a conversational tone, notwithstanding the impending violence. "I want you to understand something. You won't die by my hands. That honor belongs to someone else, someone who's waited three hundred years for this opportunity."
Warren's jaw clenched, his tactical mind immediately identifying the implication.
Ren.
The entity Jack had mentioned earlier, the "old friend" from the Prosperity Kingdoms, who apparently held three centuries of grudges against Warren.
But there was no time to process that revelation further.
Jack's body erupted with golden lightning.
