His head snapped forward towards Malrik's position as he heard the sound of footsteps. It was Malrik approaching with calm, indifferent steps, with the same smile on his face that he showed everyone.
What Threshold XI didn't know was that Malrik's strength was hardly exaggerated. Within the Wargrave family, he was second only to Azaron and Morthen, while he could go toe-to-toe with Damian. He was already stronger than the Elders, who were his Uncles and Aunts.
So, unless Malrik was fighting any of the Upper Thresholds, there was no way of losing in a battlefield like this.
"Aren't you a bit too weak to be a Threshold?" Malrik asked as he walked, his hand in his pocket as Solaris was already sheathed.
Threshold XI smiled at Malrik's words. He wasn't offended. Although he had his pride, he wasn't offended by such things.
But alas, the only way for him, Threshold XI, to win any battle here was to fight an Elder, and not someone like Malrik.
