The hammer remained raised.
But the God of War was no longer looking at Enigma.
His gaze travelled over the figure on the ridge, returned to the Chaos Blade, then climbed to Simon's face again.
Enigma slowly lowered his claws.
Blackmoon had returned.
Not limping. Not struggling to keep himself upright. He stood with the easy confidence of someone arriving to collect a debt, while Enigma's blood was still dripping onto the stones.
The god's grip tightened.
"You."
Simon looked at him.
"Are you truly the demon I held at my mercy on Earth?"
Suspicion sharpened the question. The resemblance was there, but accepting what his senses were telling him was another matter.
"The one who could only run away from me?"
Simon chuckled softly.
"You spent so much time holding me by the neck. I thought you'd remember my face."
The God of War did not answer.
He lowered the hammer a little and examined him more carefully.
