North of the island.
Mistress Sassz'ine twisted her slender waist and slipped into the sea.
"I-I hate that tomb." Hajatan followed Sathis, uttering those utterly spineless words in a low, furious voice.
Nazjatar did not welcome failures. Sathis knew that all too well.
Their defeat could not be blamed on any one member of the squad.
Hajatan had always been everyone's scapegoat, but this time, the fault was not his.
Every royal guard, Sathis included, had been played by that brat.
Not suffering in battle did not mean they had escaped the humiliation.
They had all lived for over ten thousand years; even the youngest royal guard was over a thousand. The longer they lived, the more deeply they reflected on life.
That sense of superiority, growing with every passing day, could easily turn into racial prejudice.
Yet the more Sathis looked down on that human brat with his feeble energy fluctuations, the more bitterly she resented being utterly outsmarted by him.
Unfortunately, the brat had seized the Scepter of the Abyss. They stood no chance in a head-on confrontation. Besides, the waters offshore were full of Kul Tiras fleets. Continuing to fight would only make their position worse.
Disgusting as that tomb buried deep beneath the sea was, it had at least been a palace in Suramar before the city sank.
It could not compare with the Eternal Kingdom's luxury and grandeur, but it was still a tolerable place to live.
"Would you rather serve that giant eyeball?" Sathis asked irritably.
Hajatan had only seen that blood-red eyeball imprisoned deep within the Eternal Palace once.
Even that single encounter had filled him with such endless fear and oppression that the gills beside his mouth stopped moving.
It was not a being ordinary creatures could comprehend. Looking into its eye