The silence stretched a heartbeat too long.
Ian's knuckles flexed around the hilt of Judgement, but his voice was quiet. Measured.
"Are you ready to actually go all out?"
Eli didn't answer right away. His golden eyes studied Ian's face, searching for something beneath the calm.
Then he sighed.
Not like a man afraid. Like one mourning something already lost.
"So that's how it is." He turned to look at the city skyline—jagged towers silhouetted against a brooding sky, the faint shimmer of Esgard's outer wards glowing far in the distance.
A smirk curved one corner of his mouth.
"Damn shame. I actually liked this city."
Then—
His left eye bled red.
Not metaphorically—literally.
The iris cracked like glass fracturing under pressure, bleeding into a demonic crimson glow that pulsed with every heartbeat.
