The three stood together as they gazed down at the broken and beaten Lord of the Flies, who was, even at this moment, rapidly regenerating. Darius wore a soft smile, Xela an expression of pity, and Gunner, a cold smile.
Beelzebub, who lay on the floor, could only groggily take in this sight. His vision flashed over and over as darkness encroached from the sides, slowly being pushed back as he regained his power ever so slowly.
His heart was filled with bitterness at his fate, yet there was nothing he could do. He knew that even his last-ditch efforts to resist were futile, for if the Goddess planned for his death, he would die.
However, he couldn't just lay there and wait for Darius to drop the guillotine on him, could he? Especially when he considered the incoming genocide of his entire race.
