The place where those Winged Devils circled was a skyscraper more than thirty stories tall in Moge City. Below it still hung the signs for a shopping center and hotel—though those belonged to the past. Since this place had become a war zone, everything in the city had long been transformed beyond recognition. Other than that towering steel-and-concrete building, nothing remained the same...
There, Zhang Tie saw two people: one acquaintance and one person he barely knew. The acquaintance was Scala. The other person startled Zhang Tie—it was Tirsilis.
Several weeks had passed, yet Tirsilis was still as cold and proud as ever. Her black robe and black hair possessed an eerie charm beneath the moonlight. A thread of crimson blood ran from the corner of her mouth; she appeared to have been injured. Yet even wounded, the woman kept her head raised, staring icily at the opponent before her. The red blood made her skin seem all the paler, a pale white that stirred pity—yet beneath that whiteness lay coldness, and Killing Intent...
Three corpses of demonized puppets already lay beside her. Half of those corpses were hissing as they slowly melted away into pools of blood, while the remaining demonized puppets circled and shrieked in the sky, no longer daring to dive down rashly. Scala stood over twenty meters opposite Tirsilis. His pupils had contracted as he watched her, Battle Qi faintly roiling around his body. The torn sleeve from one arm had fallen to the ground, and beneath the moonlight it showed a strange blue-green hue, utterly different from the black martial outfit Scala wore and the sleeve still on his other arm.
Scala looked at the sleeve on the ground, then at the Winged Devils gradually dissolving into pus. A trace of wariness flickered across his