Everyone looked up at the sky.
There, high above the vast plain, a figure floated in complete silence.
Focalors.
Its blue overcoat billowed slowly around it, while the cloud of smoke that made up its head trailed out behind it, drifting like a dark wake across the sky.
From that height, it looked less like a combatant and more like a director who had just taken his place in front of the stage.
"It's been a while, Emperor of Death," it said, that melodic voice carrying across the entire plain. "So good to see you again."
Mark didn't answer, simply staring back at it.
"You know? I've been thinking about you for a while now," Focalors went on, with a faint note of irritation. "About how a mere human, seemingly out of nowhere, managed to become, in such a short time, a genuine thorn in my lady's side."
"How sweet. I feel the same about you two," Mark replied, with a mocking smile.
