Louis gritted his teeth as the world twisted around him. The Grand Cathedral, the Holy Order's sacred stronghold, was warping under Asmaviel's mere presence. Buildings stretched and curved unnaturally, the stone beneath his feet rippling like water. The exorcists who had been chanting moments before were now on their knees, gasping, their holy relics flickering under the overwhelming pressure of pride itself.
Edric groaned as he pushed himself up, blood trickling from his lip. His spear was broken, yet he still tried to rise. "Louis… don't let him—"
Asmaviel flicked his wrist. Edric was launched backward, smashing through one of the cathedral's marble pillars, debris crashing around him. He didn't move after that.
Louis's heart pounded.
It was just him now.
"You stand alone, Christborn," Asmaviel mused, stepping forward. His every movement exuded an unshakable confidence as if the very idea of failure did not exist for him. "Do you know what that means?"
