Amidst the vast dimness within the palace, Marquis Ulysses's hand sliced through the shadows, droplets of crimson blood connecting in mid-air into totems and bursting into existence.
As if merging darkness with light' it was the embodiment of art as well as the harbinger of destruction.
The cry of the Crimson Blood Eagle resonated across the sky, its feathers glistening with a sanguine luster, its eyes like two blazing gems, as the might of an eighth-order bloodkin was fully displayed.
Marquis Ulysses lowered his arm, and the giant eagle soared high with a flap, transforming into a blood-red storm with lightning speed, sweeping forward.
Though still unable to reach the throne, at this distance, the summoned blood eagle could circumvent several layers of barriers and attack McCarthy before its real body.
"If you're looking for entertainment, you're better suited to fighting wild beasts,"
Ulysses said,
"Before it gnaws you to the bone, let me see your strength."