Endrick stared at the television screen, a soft sigh escaping his lips. His body slackened, the weight of realization crashing down upon him like a landslide.
It was over.
Aaron had won.
The talentless trash he once mocked... had actually won.
The bet was settled.
And so, Endrick's life—was forfeit.
Slumping deeper into the couch, Endrick lifted a half-empty glass of alcohol to his lips, drinking lazily. What was the point of trying anymore? Resistance would be futile.
He was in the Sanctuary—under the control of the demigods.
Escape?
Impossible.
Even for someone like him.
"You've really given up on life, huh? What a shame," came a voice from the shadows.
Endrick jerked upright, startled.
A masked man leaned against the wall, body pressed so flat he might as well have been part of it—like a camouflaged gecko.
"The Lightning God still had use for you," the stranger added.
