82 The Creator's Armor

Lance had a sinister look on his face as he returned his sword inside his scabbard. He was slightly shaking as what Elliot had seen. A mixture of anger, fear, and disgust etched his face like an abstract painting.

"Answer me, Babel," Lance said, narrowing his eyes at the large man in front of him.

Babel bowed in front of Lance but his aura did not change. He was still exuding a hint of killing intent that he thought would go unnotice under Lance.

"Your majesty, I am nothing but a lowly Officer right now," Babel answered. "I have one of the lowest designations in the Royal Army."

Lance did not say anything more until Babel excused himself and went away. The loss of his presence instantly relieved the tension on Lance's shoulders.

"That was scary," Lance sighed in relief.

Elliot came up to him and asked, "Why were you scared though?"