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... t the Heavenly Army to stay at your headquarters for a while longer?"

Mandela's expression changed when he heard the words, but he still smiled bitterly in the face of the famous **** and Buddha in front of him, and said honestly:

"As you saw yesterday, the Salamanda of today is not the Salamanda of 200 years ago."

"The leader of the ancestors died, the cadres including my father died in battle, the pure blood of the direct line, until now, only me and my sister Sandora are ...

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My eyes brood with fear, gazing at the still-beating heart in his hand. “My Lord, pardon me but… is this the bloody proof you promised to show me?” I asked, my voice shook as I gulped down whilst struggling my trembling knees from giving away.

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“Huh,” Samael chuckled briefly, stopping in front of me. His long, pointy nails that were covered with blood traced my elbow down to my hand. Gently, he clipped my forefinger in between his, guiding it before his lips. “Did I pass your test, though?” He asked, the sharp tip of his nail played over the tip of my finger.

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He smirked, nodding in satisfaction before he pressed his nail on the tip of my forefinger that was quick to produce a drop of blood. “Such sweet aroma.” He whispered, placing my bleeding finger in his mouth and licked it with passion.

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“You're not just a mere human... you are my human.” He stressed before I sensed his lips part and the tip of his fangs against my skin.