On a corner of the Fornes continent, a man was inscribing a runic formation on the ground using tendrils made of his own blood.
Zatiel's appearance had changed greatly over the last few weeks. The Neo-Demon appeared no different than a decrepit man with one foot already in the grave. His hair was white, and wrinkles filled his face.
His life force acted strangely. There were times it resembled an ember about to be put out, just to be fueled in the next second by a strange energy that gave the illusion of being the physical manifestation of powerful emotions.
Despite his frail appearance and the fact he found it hard to maintain his body straight, Zatiel's aura was as unwavering as always. His three eyes were bleeding without stop, but they also showed his endless determination as he pushed himself to work harder.
