Layla said nothing. Holding her lunchbox, she continued gazing at the sky.
In the distance, the sun was setting.
Its golden afterglow shone over the ruins, over the reconstruction sites, and over the faces of those emerging from the shelters.
She recalled Musa's words.
"My son is dead, but you are alive."
She lowered her head and began to eat.
Africa Headquarters, atop the tower.
Raymond stood by the railing, looking out over the scorched land in the distance. The setting sun stretched his shadow long, and the blue cracks stood out sharply in the fading light.
Ella walked over and stood beside him.
"News just came in. Those two hundred remnants have hidden themselves even deeper. The monitoring equipment can barely detect them now."
Raymond did not turn around.
"Let them hide."
Ella looked at him.
"We're not pursuing them?"
Raymond shook his head.
"No rush. Wear them down, and they'll leave traces eventually."
He turned around, his back to the sunset.
"When they can't take it anymore, we'll make our move."
Ella fell silent for several seconds, then smiled.
The golden patterns flickered across her face.
"That's ruthless."
Raymond said nothing.
He merely looked toward the distant desert, at the sinking sun.
"Whether it's ruthless doesn't matter," he said coldly. "As long as it works."
Far away, deep within the desert, those faint energy fluctuations—almost too weak to see—continued to pulse.
They were waiting.
But Raymond was waiting too.
The seventh level of hell, Crowley's palace.
The palace stood on a lava plain, surrounded by sulfurous flames, its outer walls carved with intimidating demon reliefs.
Above the main gates hung seven heads—the heads of seven greater demons who had once challenged Crowley's authority. Preserved and displayed there, they served as a warning to all visitors.
The throne sat