Chapter 34
Within the time limit, when Vastor finally felt his life was in real danger, he had already called hundreds of summons.
Each weaker than the last. He did it deliberately, hoping the mortal world could endure even a fragment of their presence.
Any one of them, any single existence from his remaining arsenal, was enough to erase a realm like this in under a minute with minimal effort. All except one, the summon he had lost during the Hell Trial, the one he had been forced to destroy with his own hands.
Yet fate mocked him.
Not one answered.
He tried again. And again. And again.
Nothing.
Vastro felt it then, defeat. Helplessness. The disgust of weakness. Being a baby meant being fragile, useless, trapped in flesh that could not answer his will.
He hated that feeling more than anything.
Then the sword came down.
It sliced across his human mother's back.
