Leon stood in the heart of ruin. The demon base was nothing but a cratered wasteland, the ground still hissing with the scent of scorched flesh and iron.
Black smoke curled upward, catching faint traces of crimson light from the sky above. In his hand, he still held Valeria's lifeless body, her blood drying against his skin.
Before him lay the headless corpse of Gordon, twisted and broken beyond recognition.
But Leon's eyes, cold and distant, didn't linger on it for long. That body was only a shell. The real Gordon was elsewhere, trapped in an eternity that Leon had built for him with deliberate cruelty.
He exhaled softly, his breath trembling not from exhaustion but from the sheer weight of the power he had used.
His gaze lowered, flicking briefly to his trembling hand before he clenched it into a fist.
Three Lord talents, each powerful enough to change worlds, had been woven together for one purpose: retribution.
