The echoes of Amon's scream slowly faded into the depths of the abyss.
Silence returned to the hollow once more.
Renard lowered his arm, the remnants of fire mana dispersing into the air, and walked toward Vaelrix. His boots crunched lightly against the fractured ground as he stopped beside him.
Vaelrix stood where he was, unmoving.
There was no wound on his body. No burn marks. Not even a tear in his clothes. The smoke from the explosion drifted past him as if it dared not touch him.
The grenade had detonated point-blank, yet it had failed to leave even the smallest trace. To someone as strong as Vaelrix, it had been meaningless.
Renard glanced at him, then let out a low whistle. "That human was insane," he said calmly. "Despite being weak, he had no fear. Not of us. Not of death. Even at the last moment, he tried to harm you rather than trying to survive."
