Far above, sitting casually atop a jagged floating spire suspended between rivers of molten lava, Seere rested one leg over the other. The scorching wind brushed against her violet hair, making it shimmer like a flame in the night.
Before her lay the massive crater an open wound of hell itself. And at its center, Sylvia danced amid the inferno and the screams of hundreds of Hellhounds burning alive.
Seere's lips curved into a small smile, half admiration, half amusement.
"So this is what you look like when you're unleashed," she murmured.
Leaning forward slightly, her golden eyes gleamed. "Magnificent… even after rejecting my proposal, you still look breathtaking while destroying everything around you."
She could have intervened. She could have helped. But she didn't. That wasn't her role.
She simply watched and savored the rare sight of a being even demons would hesitate to provoke.
Yet within, Seere wasn't just observing. She was thinking.
