Who are you?" Greg asked again. His voice was icy cold now, his expression mirroring it. One thought occupied his mind: eliminate the threat before it escalates.
"Bind," Greg commanded, but this time, his tone was not casual.
He had invoked the Dragon's Tongue—a mythical language that bent reality itself when backed by mana. Words with weight. Words that made the world listen.
But nothing happened.
No chains. No bindings. Nothing.
The demon woman stretched with a casual elegance, almost mockingly. She had done it intentionally—to show him his attempt had failed.
"Dragon's Tongue, huh?" she said, her voice smooth and amused. "When was the last time someone used that on me? Drakonix wouldn't dare back when I was in my prime. Or baby Leviathan, maybe…"
She gave him a small, appreciative nod.
