Chapter 104 - When Monsters Make A Pact

Smoke clung to the air like the breath of a dying god, thick and acrid, curling through the shattered remnants of the northern plaza. The blackstone steps beneath Valerian's boots were cracked, scorched, and slick with blood—some his own, most not. His cloak, tattered at the edges, fluttered in the ember-laden wind, carrying the faint glow of dying fires. His gauntlet dripped crimson, each drop hissing as it struck the stone. The Hollow Blades, the Conclave's elite assassins, lay strewn across the plaza, their bodies broken, their once-proud banners reduced to ash. Yet Valerian stood tall, his silver eyes unnervingly calm amidst the carnage, as if the slaughter had been a mere formality.