[ A Few Moments Ago ]
As Victor's body shattered into motes of light, the last fragments drifted away like dying fireflies, leaving only empty air where he had stood a heartbeat ago. The battlefield felt strangely quieter without his presence.
Arthur lowered his demonic arm slowly, flexing his fingers.
Demonic energy still crawled along the twisted limb like living smoke, coiling around the black-clawed hand. The skin along his forearm was marked with faint, crawling sigils that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.
Across from him, Damian stood frozen.
His spear hung at his side, his knuckles white around the shaft. His red aura roared wildly, reacting to the surge of emotions he could not quite put into words.
He had just watched his rival—his friend in that perfect life-or-death duel—get eliminated by a sneak attack from behind.
By a pervert.
Arthur glanced at the clawed hand, then shifted his gaze to the translucent window floating before his eyes.
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