CHAPTER 832
"Took you all long enough," Alba scowled, her voice raspy as she watched the three figures emerge from the swirling ashen mist.
Dame. Killian. Lance.
Rising slowly to her feet, Alba adjusted her grip on her hilt and glared at the backs of the trio who had just stepped through the portal to reinforce her position.
"Wait. Isn't this the Vice Leader of the Behemoth Clan?" Dame asked, his tone laced with a mix of surprise and recognition as he pointed at the massive man standing just a few meters away from them.
Pluck tilted his head, a deep, pulsating frown appearing on his weathered face as he identified the person who had just singled him out.
"Dame? What are the odds that Borfan's own son would be out here, joining hands with those who seek to bring ruin to the Aetherian faction?"
Dame cocked his shoulders, unfazed by the hidden threat in Pluck's voice.
