Fenrir stared at the intruder, the one she referred to as the Demon King, the young man named Wrath—Mephistopheles. She felt a sense of wariness, determined not to let him out of her sight.
She was anxious.
Despite her current strength, she knew she was still too weak to confront him—someone on par with great gods like the Olympians and the Asgardians.
"So you summoned me to help you retrieve your pet!" Wrath said with a smile. "For that, I'll reduce the price from 90% of your strength to just 75%! How generous of me, right?"
"... Damn."
Greed, of course, was reluctant to call upon him if he could avoid it.
He understood the steep price he would have to pay. Yet, he also knew that the others would not come to his aid. They would merely watch him perish if he reached out to them. Only Wrath would be willing to assist him, if it came to that.
