Light radiates, illuminating all things.
The intense heat dried Bologue's cheeks, causing his skin to crack, as if he were bearing a blazing sun. The blade in his hand, black as night, also ignited in a roaring flame, much like the legendary Fire Sword of judgment.
There was no more reservation, and absolutely no mercy.
Bologue looked at Yidir below, and the twisted flesh of the Beast of the Herd extending from the Material Realm. Surprisingly, Bologue no longer felt anger, but a sense of sacred tranquility, even his gaze was filled with a sense of compassion.
The tense nerves relaxed, as did the hardened muscles. Bologue's expression was no longer cold, but was tinged with a significant smile.
For a moment, Bologue truly seemed to transform into the Angel wielding the Fire Sword from the tales. What he was about to do was not slaughter or revenge, but redemption filled with pity.
"What a pitiful existence..."
