Cain stared at Azazel, and a long sigh slipped from his chest. All the weight of the war—the endless exhaustion of guiding armies and the constant scheming, the burden of thinking not only of battles but of the fate of trillions and how even the slightest mistake could mean their death—finally began to fade from his mind. A strange tranquility washed over him, as if the chaos had ebbed and left only stillness in its wake. For the first time in weeks, his mind and soul relaxed.
Azazel and the others noticed that behavior. The Scarlet King's posture resembled that of a man resigned, one prepared to accept his final fate. It gave them comfort, a reassurance that this nightmare might finally end. Yet none of them could shake the prickling unease at the back of their minds. Something was wrong.
"I searched for countless ways to overcome this storm," Cain began suddenly, his deep voice echoing through the chamber. "Countless ways to save my people and to defeat you all."
