The Spirit Realm was silent.
The ruins of the battlefield still smoked, the Eternal Tree shimmering faintly above them. The Seven Demon Lords had fallen, their bodies shattered into dust and flame. For the first time in countless ages, the Spirit Realm seemed to breathe.
The silence broke with a sound.
"Clatter… clatter…"
Chains rattled.
The shattered fragments of the Seven Demon Lords did not vanish as Seraphina expected. Instead, the abyss opened again—black fissures tearing across the air like wounds in reality. The dust of their remains swirled back into forms, their roars shaking the heavens as their broken bodies reformed anew.
Azgorth's skeletal frame reassembled, hollow eyes burning brighter.
Belmira's crimson wings regrew, dripping with allure and venom.
Droskar's molten axe reformed, heavier, burning hotter than before.
One after another, the Seven rose again, their combined authority heavier than the first time.
