Alex now stood.
Right in front of them.
James. Sephira. Veyron. Veyra.
And just behind him, as if being protected by his shadow come alive, lay Ava, Charlotte, and Seraphina—their bloodied bodies barely breathing, barely conscious.
The four enemies turned to face the new figure, and for the briefest moment…
They stopped breathing.
Their eyes widened. Their minds went blank.
And then—
They felt it.
The pressure.
An aura so profound, so complete in its domination, that the world itself seemed to still.
The wind didn't blow.
The blood dripping from their fingers froze midair.
Alex stood amidst them—the embodiment of judgment.
Silver hair, tousled and wild, shimmered even beneath the deathly sky—radiant like moonlight kissing still waters.
His face—sharp, defined, otherworldly handsome—carried no emotion.
No smile.
No rage.
Just cold, detached fury.
And his eyes.
Blue. Not just blue.
