The sky above was bruised with smoke, an angry bruise bleeding across the clouds. The battlefield behind them reeked of scorched magic and ruptured anatomy. Mangled demon corpses twitched in the dirt like meat puppets freshly unstrung.
Allen didn't look back.
He walked forward through the wreckage, every step deliberate. His coat whipped in the wind. His fists were relaxed now—mission complete—but the power still simmered behind his eyes. The last echoes of his spell whispered through the air like static:
"Testicular Torsion."
Fina padded beside him, her tail swishing with satisfaction, claws still tacky with gore. Her sharp smile said it all: she had thoroughly enjoyed today's carnage.
