In the barren, arid mountains, hundreds of kilometers from the ruins where Leon and the demon army rested, a man in a black cloak suddenly appeared, his figure fully concealed by the fabric.
He panted heavily, his appearance utterly wretched. His left arm was severed, with red-black blood dripping ceaselessly onto the ground. A deep slash stretched from his lower abdomen to his neck, leaving a ghastly, horrifying sight.
This was the second apostle of the Temple of Twilight, brought to this pitiable state by a devastating attack from Leon.
Struggling to steady his breathing, he hurled the corpse in his grasp to the ground, his fury barely contained.
"Damn it… this mission was a complete disaster. Not only was I humiliated by the Fated One, but I also suffered these near-fatal wounds. That attack... it was terrifyingly powerful," he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice trembling with rage.
