The battle was finally over—this long, near-endless, nightmarish…
Lorenzo's gaze was slightly vacant. The consecutive Anti-Memes had exacted no small toll on him; the withered power crawled over his body, like a swarm of ants gnawing away at his flesh and will.
Yet this excruciating pain did not make Lorenzo scream—probably because he no longer had the strength left to scream.
He slowly shifted his body, then leaned against a corner of the ruins and sank down to sit.
The blood and flesh on his body writhed with difficulty. They tried to mend his wounds, but most wounds would barely knit together before splitting open once more.
After such intense combat, even with the protection of the Flame Holder, Lorenzo was covered in wounds. After a long while, he seemed to have finally caught his breath, gulping air in and out, feeling the rawness of life. The sharp pain kept assaulting him, telling him this was no dream, but reality.
He had won.
"It's finally over, Edren… and Roger."
