"We shall avenge Vayro, and all the people that fell today," Raelthorn declared, lightning sparking across his shoulders.
His voice was a hammer — solid, final, loud enough to echo through the smoking cracks of Purgatory itself. "We won't leave until every one of these monsters is dead!"
He didn't need to say more.
Dean, blood streaking down his temple, stood beside him with a glare sharp as any Line blade.
Hanami, silent and tight-lipped, twirled her scythe once. The flower-shaped head pulsed with a faint pink glow. All three stood tall — tired, grieving, furious.
And ahead of them… the last one standing.
Vel'XalvenoX.
Alone, but still calm. As if losing Vel'Tharion and the Eclipse didn't matter.
But it did.
His hand clenched. Behind the eerie calm of his crimson skin, fury twisted like fire. They couldn't see it. Couldn't hear it. But he was angry. Angry in a way that cracked stone and warped air.
They would pay.
