Milo could barely contain his rage, he knew that he was being deliberately provoked, that much was obvious, but it was also evident that Loimos meant it, there was no living that he would be willing to spare within this barrier, that much was certain.
The undead did not budge even as golden mana exploded from Milo and crashed against him, and the living, even with deeply incensed, did not rush forward just yet.
"Loimos, you shouldn't have come here, you are at your weakest inside of this barrier" instead, he fired back with venomous words of his own.
The undead looked much like he remembered, the corpse had not changed much since the day they fought in the ruins of Millipolo, the same helm with a cage-like visor, filled to the brim with impenetrable darkness, the same dark mantle, everything looked the exact same, and at a glance, one would be unable to tell that everything covering his foul bones was but woven rot.
