Lucas stood over the corpses of Thorne, Sylra, and Kaelor, their bodies still fresh from the violent battle. His eyes gleamed with cold satisfaction as he looked down at the fallen elders.
The weight of their power, now reduced to lifeless forms, filled the air. Lucas knew exactly what needed to be done next.
"System, create the Divine Masks with their identities," Lucas commanded, his voice firm and unwavering.
[You're giving orders like you're the boss. Oh wait, you are!] the system chimed in, its tone dripping with smug arrogance. [Three fresh corpses, and you just can't wait to bring them back, huh? Fine, let's make some puppets. Watch and learn.]
Without missing a beat, three blank, eerie masks materialized in the air before Lucas, hovering above the corpses. The masks were featureless, pale, and smooth—waiting to be molded by the dark power of the Divine Mask.
