Above, below, and all around stretched a void that pulsed with colorless light, rippling like the inside of a shattered mirror. What had once been the Devil King's throne room was now a boundaryless expanse where gravity and space shifted with every heartbeat. The ruins of what had been a palace drifted weightlessly in the distance, their marble fragments slowly disintegrating into ash.
At the center of it all, Zero Elea and the Emperor of Destruction stood side by side.
Aamon loomed across from them, his body enveloped in swirling scarlet flames that ate through the void like wildfire. His presence bent the horizon itself, his silhouette towering like a god born from chaos. Each breath he took radiated destruction. His laughter echoed through the abyss, mocking yet almost reverent.
"You've truly done it," Aamon said, voice resonating with impossible depth. "Two souls, one origin. The fortune of the mortals twisted until it broke its own reflection."
