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... e king of wraths and undead. Proudly seated at the head of the demonic procession, consisting of countless skeletons, spirit golems, and a single ceremonious Dullahan at the charge, his empty gaze fell over to the expansive walls of Aria coming into his view.

'Let's see what the land of warriors has to offer…' Raising his armored hand, he stopped the procession from moving an inch further.

"It's been a while since I've moved my muscles," hearing him say that his skeleton army as ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

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Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

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