Amael didn't stop after announcing the end of the war.
His voice, which had just declared the conclusion of the long-standing conflict, grew colder, sharper, carrying the weight of authority that silenced even the most defiant of hearts. He knew exactly the kind of people he was speaking to—demons, Aevorians, and government officials, all of whom, despite their exhaustion, were driven by greed, power, or hatred.
They would not be satisfied with peace. Not all of them.
And he would not allow the seeds of rebellion to take root again.
His eyes, like ice, swept over the crowd. The silence that followed was palpable, as if the world itself held its breath.
"If anyone, be it demon, human, or any other race," Amael's voice sliced through the tension like a blade, "dares to defy this order—if any of you seek to continue this war, whether in the open or in the shadows—I will find you."
His words, cold as death, hung in the air like a dark omen.
