When the Fire-stealer got serious, he was like a god descended to earth—fierce and terrifying, every move brimming with killing intent.
Though many of the Chrysos Heirs present were Demigods, none could gain the slightest advantage over him.
As time passed, their wounds piled up.
Yet the black-robed swordsman showed no sign of fatigue. He looked just as he had at the start.
"What kind of monster is he...?" Cipher touched the wound on her face and nearly lost it.
"No wonder he survived even when Huanzi blew himself up back then. Is he a zombie or something?"
"Focus on the fight. Don't let yourselves get distracted." Aglaea clutched her chest, panting as she stared at the Fire-stealer, who watched them like a predator.
"The Fire-stealer's strength isn't endless. I can sense his fatigue... We have to hold on."
"Seamstress, I'm not built for this. I really can't last much longer." Cipher bent over, gasping between words.
"How about we leave the little golden lion here and run off to catch our breath..."
"No." Phainon frowned, his eyes full of concern.
"There's a limit to how many times Mydei can come back from the dead. If we leave him here alone, the consequences could be disastrous."
"Savior, do you think I'm afraid of dying for real?" Mydei wiped the Golden Blood from the corner of his mouth, his expression resolute.
"If this goes on, we'll be the first to give out."
"As Kephale's successor, you and Cipher need to go. Only if you're safe will we still have a chance at Re-Creation!"
"No! I won't run away again!" Phainon's voice was grim.
"If victory means abandoning my companions, then I won't accept it!"
"I still have the Soul Bead inside me. Even if I die fighting here, it doesn't matter!"