A shiver ran through Cain's soul. The power needed to halt the collapse of that spatial thread—the same thread he had tried to shatter—was beyond anything even he could muster. Yet the interference did not stop with simply freezing its destruction. In the next instant, the tear began to enlarge.
It was as if two invisible hands, immense and malevolent, gripped the thread of space and used it to rip open the fabric of reality, carving their way out of the dimension.
Azazel, who moments before had been suffocated by despair as his mission seemed lost, clenched his claws. His frown turned into a trembling smile. He felt it—the presence he had labored for so long to awaken, his hidden trump card. The weapon forged to tip the scales against the Scarlet King was finally breaking free.
