Aamon raised his hand, dark energy swirling around it like a vortex.
The air grew heavier with each passing second, crackling with an overwhelming sense of dread.
The demons and the meta-human, still trapped by Belphegor's power, struggled in vain.
But none of them showed fear, their expressions calm and unwavering. They knew all too well that no matter what happened, they would be revived again.
Death had lost its meaning, and the cycle of destruction had become a mere inconvenience rather than an end.
"You've had your fun, your little resets," Aamon said, his tone laced with mockery. "But this time, there won't be another chance. No more games."
"You think this will end anything? All you're doing is exhausting your energy further," the meta-human boy sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.
"I wonder about that," Aamon let out a low chuckle. A dark grin spread across his face as his eyes locked onto the boy.
