Dyon's eyes seemed quite dead as he silently stared at Loki's bowing figure. He didn't have the normal despair one would expect, nor did they bear any resignation. He simply watched.
From the name Patriarch Ragnor used alone, Dyon had already guessed many things. He had wondered why his breakthrough into sainthood was capable of dispelling a wound caused by a supposed celestial so easily, but the answer was now laying bear before him.
Even with his will to survive still burning as furiously as it had been before he realized Loki had lived, Dyon couldn't help but laugh at himself.
The person everyone had been so worried about. The very same mighty Patriarch Ragnor that King Belmont spent centuries preparing and cultivating for. Was a mere trickster… A man who in terms of just combat power, probably lost out to his demon generals.
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