After the Archangel vanished, the raging fire emanating from Vlad finally subsided. He did not utter a single word, yet the hatred lingering around him was so immense that it condensed into a deep crimson aura, one that pulsed with restrained annihilation, as though it could ignite the world itself should his control falter.
Several long minutes passed.
For any lesser being, such hatred would have consumed the mind entirely, eroding reason and sanity alike. Yet Vlad was no ordinary existence. As a True Depravita, mastery over negative emotions was not merely a trait—it was a foundational requirement. Slowly, deliberately, he forced the wrath back into submission, compressing it layer by layer until his heart could contain it once more.
Only when the last tremor of rage was subdued did he turn his attention to the dimension itself.
