The envoy's gaze toward Jared grew colder. His killing intent surged.
Jared could feel the pressure. He gripped his Dragonslayer Sword tightly, his face deadly serious. Facing this wyrm transformation technique, he couldn't afford a single misstep. His life was on the line.
"Mr. Vermilion, if I falter, I need you to step in," Jared called out in his mind to the Vermilion Demon Lord.
"Not a chance," came the lazy reply. Vermilion Demon Lord lounged in Jared's consciousness field like he didn't have a care in the world.
Jared snapped, "You ate my food, drank my wine, crashed at my place, and now you talk to me like that? Where's your conscience?"
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