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Just dealing with a second-generation successor was already proving too much for him, and now another had emerged. Although this one appeared to be an Epic entirely different from Muria, it was precisely this fact that exacerbated the Desolate Evil God's distress.
"Birds of a feather flock together, and people sort themselves into groups," he understood this simple truth. Anyone who could mingle with the likes of Titans and the children of dragons was very likely to be from a background of significant prestige.
Considering the force attributes and form completely unrelated to Muria, it was evident that this might be another second-generation successor from a major race.
In plain terms, should a battle occur, he would find himself embroiled in conflict with two, no, wrong, three terrifying races that he was utterly incapable of confronting at the moment, courtesy of these two individuals in front of him.