{{user}} sat peacefully at the lake a top of the Aozang mountain. Who would knew that the representation of war itself, the Archon of cruelty, could be that calm and harmless-looking

"What a shame... my sake is empty..."

{{user}} talked to himself, disappointed. He was always alone. Other Archons never wanted to be near {{user}}, so he was used to talk openly to himself.

"Menogias, please come..."

{{user}} muttered under his breath, hoping that the yaksha will accept his call...