The analytical hero's eyes went wide. Not with pain, but with understanding. With the sudden, terrible recognition that he was dying. That prophecy wasn't going to save him. That divine champions could fall to sufficiently powerful demons who'd transcended the normal rules.
He collapsed, still breathing but no longer combat-effective.
That left the blonde hero. Alone. Injured. Facing Liam's twenty simultaneous manifestations and a dozen Abyssal entities, all focused on her with absolute intent.
"I yield," she whispered. "Please. I yield. I'll—I'll abandon the crusade. Tell the other heroes to stop. Whatever you want, just—"
"You hurt her," Liam said, and his voice was gentle now. Almost kind. Which somehow made it more terrible. "You broke her armor. Shattered her arm. Made her bleed gold while you yawned like it was boring. Like she didn't matter."
"I'm sorry—"
"You're not," Liam said. "You're scared."
