That was not the power brought by a miracle, but an unequivocal disaster, as if the crystallization of the Abyss manifested here.
With the ferocious contours of the Demon Dragon unfolding, a pitch-black deluge swept through, engulfing this frail dream of Gold, devouring everything, turning it all into ashes.
Everything was killed in an instant, only to be rebuilt in the next.
In the shared horror and agony, Harry Quinn gritted his teeth, struggling not to let out any moans. Isabella, already incapable of enduring the torment, fainted amidst her convulsions.
Even in shock, Stigma never once recoiled.
Still, it transformed into a pillar, supporting the existence of the dream of Gold.
The high soprano never ceased; with her Soul, she rebuilt everything from destruction, prolonging the story of Spartacus.
Pant Delong gripped his palm tightly, allowing the mask to burn into ash in the terrible heat, his shattered face resembling a Skeleton.
But his hunched body now stood upright.
