Chapter 139: The Leash and the Hunger
The ancient, resonant command of the Blood God lingered in the ruined sky like the aftershock of a dying star.
Before Omin could close the distance again, the First Apostle tore a jagged rift of dripping crimson into the air behind him. The brute didn't offer a final taunt. The fanatical arrogance had been wiped clean from his bloody face, replaced by the absolute, terrified obedience of a hound called back to its master's kennel. He stepped backward into the tear and vanished.
The Third Apostle lingered for a single, agonizing heartbeat.
Still clutching the fractured porcelain mask against his bleeding jaw, the silver-haired youth looked back at the battered patriarch. Through the narrow eye-slits of the crimson lacquer, his gaze was an unreadable storm of hesitation, shame, and cold resolve. Then, without a word, he turned and slipped into the bleeding rift, which snapped shut behind him like a closing wound.
