While Amon and Vol'giman clashed in a battle to the death—each collision tearing Solfea apart—Yue was facing a far more familiar adversary, one she herself had let go only weeks ago.
Isadora stood motionless, breath held, intoxicated by the suffocating pressure radiating from the Demon Prince she had summoned. The goal she had pursued her entire life now stood before her eyes.
So valiant.
So overwhelmingly dominant.
Just as she had always dreamed.
Vol'giman's power was worthy of awe—no, it was the only thing worthy of her devotion.
The mere thought of binding herself to him, of bearing his legacy, sent a tremor through her soul. The Apostle of Lust resonated fully with that desire, and her power surged violently in response. In doing so, she hastened her descent into demonic madness.
From the very beginning, Isadora had possessed the greatest potential among the Apostles. She alone pursued her desires without restraint, without shame, without hesitation.
