A wave of a thousand golden warriors descended from the skies.
Before them stood two thousand residents of the camp, bearing their weapons outright.
In the far distance, the colossal body of the Monarch shuddered, acknowledging the upcoming monumental clash, its gaze shifting toward them, observing in silent curiosity.
"Rise." Michael declared, making Devil assume his true form.
Devil, in turn, gazed at the nearing swarm, pupil narrowing.
"You do know…" The soul weapon regarded Michael with an unreadable expression. "…That you can just walk away, right? What's the point of risking everything for a bunch of… weaklings?"
For the first time, Devil didn't show his usual eagerness for battle. Instead, he hesitated. Even if he was willing to abandon them all, it seemed he was still concerned about Michael… His own way of showing it, perhaps.
