The four Demigods looked at the teenage boy with a grim expression.
Thirteen had just been at their complete mercy earlier. But in the blink of an eye, the tables have turned.
The sword wielder, Malgrux, glanced at his allies, who were also thinking about how they'd overcome the current situation.
But before they could even come up with a solution, the fourth Demigod, who had used the fire dragon earlier, found himself staring at a hand that pierced from behind his back.
That hand now held a beating heart, and not long later, he coughed a mouthful of blood.
"Ah, right. I didn't ask for your name," Thirteen said calmly. "Well, not that it matters. You're already dead."
The teenage boy then crushed the heart, blood splattering on the face of a Demigod who died just like that.
Thirteen casually tossed the corpse to the side, but as he did, countless black hands grabbed hold of it.
