Lazarak winced slightly at the sight; his face remained frozen in a grimace, shoulders tightening as if bracing against a chill. What Damon had done looked unnerving even to a god who had lived for a very long time.
Perhaps it was equivalent to someone looking at their perfectly good eyeball, casually deciding they didn't like it, then reaching out their fingers and pulling it out and discarding it on the ground.
The implications were not lost on him, but at the same time Damon felt something different: his physical body pulsed with explosive power, every muscle coiled with an overwhelming sense of energy.
His magic circuits felt clear, mana passively flowing with a refined current.
This was the boon of his partial demonization.
But Damon felt like he lost something too, though he didn't know what… His fingers flexed once, testing the emptiness inside himself.
Was that why he had discarded his guilt…?
