"A bunch of useless trash!"
Charas cursed, throwing the communicator in his hand onto the sofa. After pacing back and forth for a moment, he closed his eyes.
Soon, a pale golden glow appeared not far from him, and the figure of an old man in a gray robe slowly emerged.
Before the man could speak, Charas hurried over, stared into his eyes, and demanded aggressively.
"Your people screwed it up again! Why do I have to say 'again'?! Can't you fucking come up with any decent weapons?! Or is it that, aside from those scaly murlocs, you have no one else you can use?!"
Alzu's expression was equally grim.
He was not a true Precursor, after all, but an apostle stationed in the "Second Sanctuary." He could not completely suppress human emotions and achieve purely rational thought.
Even so, he patiently waited for the man to finish complaining before coldly voicing his own dissatisfaction.
"I must remind you that the sea is your territory. You have lived here for two centuries, while we only arrived recently. I can indeed deal with certain troubles you find inconvenient to handle yourselves, but surely you do not think we are equally omnipotent at sea and on land? If that were the case, what would we need you for?"
Charas's expression became somewhat awkward.
"But even so..."
This time, Alzu did not wait for him to finish before cursing outright.
"Enough with the 'even so'! Do I really have to spell it out for you? You are moving too slowly!"
Charas stared at the suddenly furious Alzu in astonishment, momentarily forgetting who had been holding whom accountable.
Taking a deep breath, Alzu steadied his heaving chest and continued, staring at the stunned Federal chief of staff.
"The Alliance is trying to build an