"Do you think that's enough to stop me?" Seamus asked, his voice laced with mockery.
Isolde laughed, a sharp, cruel sound.
"And what can you do? Fight me with those thin arms and legs? I could snap you apart with my bare hands."
"No," he said calmly, pulling a dagger from his pocket, the one he'd taken from his last fight.
He pressed the cold, thin blade to his throat, feeling the bite of iron against his Adam's apple.
"I'll do this instead."
Her smile faltered.
"I know you won't let me die, not after you've evolved with that endearing little power of yours." His gaze was steady, unwavering.
"And I know this isn't your final evolution. You're chasing something higher, aren't you? The Supreme Being."
Seamus had asked the system for answers, and the truth had chilled him. Isolde was on the cusp of the legendary evolution, close to a being transcending all creatures who created them, a false god they called Demiurge, though not as strong as Them.
