An enclave of dragons gave Abaddon a title. He must have been worthy of the prideful dragons, Favoured Ones with far more potential and power than normal dragons, to lower their pride and give him a title out of respect and possibly… fear.
Oliver cleared his throat to get Godfrey's attention. "You're going to face Arnold. That man is the second-in-command after Captain Saul. He isn't weak at all. Which summon are you going to send against him?"
"I already have someone in mind," Godfrey said. In his soul space, a ten-foot-tall lean armoured figure sat on a tall throne with three torches above it.
His armour wasn't bulky like other melee knights but streamlined to fit his lean physique. His short hair had turned white and he wore a white face mask with two metal buckles at his neck, not because he had to but because it was weird without it now.
On one hand floated a tome which slowly flipped to the seventh page where he gazed at a volcanic hammer. His former identity.
***
