Zarion staggered in the crater, one hand pressed desperately against the gaping wound in his chest. His breath came in ragged, broken gasps, sweat dripping down his pale face.
His voice trembled with fury and fear.
"That flame… it's still inside me… gnawing at my very being. My body can't regenerate… it's like the wound itself refuses to exist… and yet it devours me from within."
His eyes widened, veins bulging as the purple glow flickered inside his torso, spreading like veins of corruption. He coughed violently, blood spraying across the broken stones.
He roared in denial, his voice shaking the scorched battlefield.
"Damn it..what abilities does this flame has ?
A crooked grin spread across his face.
"So… he can manipulate purple flames now too?"
His voice trembled with a mix of admiration and fear.
Up above, Azreal hovered silently, suspended in the blood-red sky. His body radiated power like a dying star.
Then—
A voice echoed in his mind.
