"So fast!"
Milo's pupils trembled violently.
This time, he failed to react.
When Ethan's figure finally became clear in his vision, the man was already standing at his side—as if space itself had folded.
"If you want to stop His Royal Highness the Holy Son, you must get through me first!"
Milo roared, his voice hoarse, forcing every remaining drop of bloodline power to surge. Demonic patterns blazed like living fire, and his wings trembled as he twisted his body, launching a desperate counterattack.
But Ethan did not even look at him.
He passed by like a gust of wind.
A silent gust.
"Pfft—!"
Milo spat out a mouthful of thick blue blood. His body stiffened, the strength in his limbs evaporating in an instant as he staggered helplessly in the air.
"How… how can this be…?"
His gaze lowered subconsciously.
At the center of his chest, there was a hole the size of a fist.
Clean. Neat. Terrifying.
At this moment, the position where his heart should have been… was empty.
