Silence stretched between them.
The air of Hell seemed to grow heavier.
Caelum did not move.
"That will not be happening," he said flatly.
Arven's eyes gleamed.
"Oh?" he said softly. "Then I suppose we have reached the interesting part of this conversation."
Caelum moved first.
There was no warning.
The moment Arven's words fell, the air itself collapsed inward. Invisible pressure surged forward like a tidal wave, space compressing and folding under Caelum's will.
Layers of compressed force stacked atop one another, converging on Arven's position from every direction.
To use his law this openly meant only one thing.
Caelum was going all out.
Arven's smile did not vanish.
Instead, his body split.
The space he occupied fractured, and in the span of a heartbeat, five figures stood where one had been.
One was the original Arven, still smiling, though the madness in his eyes dulled slightly, replaced by an unsettling calm.
The other four were wrong.
