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Metatron’s true form was a stark contrast to the arthritis-ridden old sorcerer he used to be.
He stood three meters tall and had six massive wings that resembled a bat’s wings or perhaps a dragon’s wings. His skin was a very dark purple that nearly looked black, and he possessed bulging muscles that could rival those of a seasoned bodybuilder.
On his head were three imposing horns, and his glowing crimson eyes radiated a sinister aura. In this transformed state, Metatron truly looked like the son of a Demon Lord.
“Ooooh! My lord!”
Metatron’s most loyal subject, Chaos, shuddered with awe and even teared up a bit at the sight of his master’s true form—a sight he had not seen in ages.
“Whoa…”
Even Siegfried could not help but see Metatron in a different light.
The demon was nothing more than a clumsy fool, which was hardly what one would expect from the son of a Demon Lord. But now, in his true form, he looked just as formidable as what one would expect a Demon Lord would look like.
However, no one was more thrilled about the transformation than Metatron himself.
“Kwahahaha!”
Metatron basked in the power he had not wielded in so long that a shiver of excitement surged throughout his entire body.
“Ah, this strength… It’s intoxicating! Kwahahaha!”
Siegfried scowled. His face scrunched at Metatron’s overly dramatic, cringe-inducing, time-wasting transformation.
“Hey, you—”
“Kyuuu! Leave him be, owner p...
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