Dennise stared in shock and raw fear as the EX-Class Veilwing's massive carcass collapsed, its titanic body torn apart by Apole's merciless assault. The once-proud beast—camouflage, wings, and all—had been butchered as if it were nothing more than prey. By a spirit beast. A mere spirit beast.
And not just butchered—annihilated. Without effort. Without resistance. Without even a drop of sweat spilled.
A chill sank into Dennise's bones, but almost instantly it was drowned out by a flood of molten fury. His lips curled back, baring his teeth as the realization coiled like a snake in his chest.
They weren't even fighting him.They weren't even acknowledging him.
This wasn't victory. This was mockery.
