I could barely move. My body was broken, my Magicore fading, and every breath felt like I was inhaling shards of glass. My limbs refused to respond, and the overwhelming heat of the abyss burned against my skin.
Yet, through the haze of pain, I heard his voice—mocking, boasting.
"You don't understand, do you?"
The Beneath One stood above us, his form shrouded in those unnatural robes, his very presence suffocating. Even now, his power pressed against me, reminding me of my own weakening state.
Fafnir, wounded but still standing, snarled. "What the hell are you going on about…?"
The Beneath One let out a low, dark chuckle.
"This power… it is not something I gained on my own. It was given to me—bestowed upon me by Pyrion himself."
Pyrion…?
A wave of cold realization crashed over me, but my body was too weak to react. My mind, however—it clung to every word.
The Beneath One's tone shifted, almost as if reminiscing.
"I never would have reached him without her."
