"Fuck you," she spat, literally—blood-mixed saliva hitting his face.
The Reaper cleaned the spit off his face with one hand, his expression unchanged. "Fair enough. I respect that. Defiant to the end. You died like a warrior should."
His sword rose higher, catching the light. The blade that had killed twelve demon lords, that had ended countless lives, that had never failed to claim its target.
It began to descend—
In the Central Spire
Satou had been watching through the scrying orb, his hands clenched so tight his claws had drawn blood from his own palms.
He'd watched Seraphine fight with everything she had. Watched her unleash power that made the earth shake. Watched her actually wound The Reaper, make him bleed, force him to release a limiter.
And then he'd watched it all fall apart.
Watched as The Reaper adapted to everything. Watched as he turned Seraphine's own abilities against her. Watched as the gap between them became insurmountable.
