He frowns, drawing his scythe. "I see." His eyes become wraith's eyes, white, burning orbs of [i]hate[/i]. "My only forms of magic are necromancy and demonology. If you are not supportive of my [i]only powers,[/i] then that makes us enemies. I have no wish to help the Gods of Light, nor can I fight my Patron, God of Darkness and Death. I have no doubt that if we were to duel, many would die. So what now, Ophion?" His scythe glows with a unholy light, the darkness leaching into the minds of passerby's.