Alex let out a quiet breath—and relaxed.
Of course.
The glare made sense.
The demon standing across the platform wasn't just staring for intimidation's sake. It wasn't posturing or trying to make a statement.
It had a reason.
Alex could tell from the way its eyes shimmered, how its aura shifted—tight, leashed rage balanced on a knife's edge.
That demon was of the same race as Malik. And word… word must've already spread.
The Legacy Realm may have been isolated from the outside world, but the demons clearly had their own means of communication.
Alex didn't know exactly how, but he didn't need to. That thing staring him down had already heard what happened.
And it wasn't pleased.
The demon Alex had killed wasn't some low-rank fodder.
He was a prince.
And Malik hadn't just lost.
He'd been humiliated. Outplayed. Overpowered and burned until his very essence cracked in front of the entire arena. Then, in the end, possessed—warped into a weapon against his will—and killed.
