[Salone]

"We are ready."

Na'lsa spoke both for he and his vessel, voice oozing hatred for the Nephilim. It was high time for his pound of flesh from the creature, and the implied shackles had bruised his wrists long enough. He mumbled to no one in particular, as if having an internal debate with his less empowered counterpart.

"The flesh was a promise but now a promise broken. The flesh will be broken then. Broken and consumed. Broken down to raw portions. Re purposed. Rebuilt. No, you have been a gracious host. You will not die here, and nor will I. They cannot kill the Messiah."