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William I's gaze abruptly froze. Brilliant white flames erupted from his throat, threatening to burn his vocal cords and head to ashes together. The Hand of Order still refused to resign himself to death, and his spirituality traced a golden decree in the sky:
"All forms of flame attacks are prohibited here!"
Yet, toyed with by fate, William I once again made the wrong decision. In that fleeting instant, he should have immediately merged himself into the future Black Emperor's laws that filled the mausoleum, or at the very least sought the other's help, rather than attempt to confront the War Angel before him head-on while bearing an enhanced curse of misfortune from an Angel of Fate.
Almost the instant the decree formed, the flames burning on Medici's body and sword began to die out, but he paid them no mind. Before William I could say, "Violators shall be punished!" the sword in his hand severed William I's neck with brilliant white flames. The scattered fire flew outward in a circle, engulfing the entire inverted mausoleum in raging flames in an instant.
His own good fortune was his enemy's misfortune. The calamity of Fate differed from that of Darkness. Fate always required comparison to reveal good and bad; only by seeing others' misfortune could one recognize one's own good fortune.
"Heh, William. Little William, such a rigid crybaby."
They had all been acquainted once, having lived through the days of Solomon's First Empire together. Although Marquis William back then had not even qualified to catch the Red Angel's eye, he was happy to send him on his way now in the uniquely meaningful tone of an old acquaintance.
Medici kicked upward, smashing the head to pieces. Blood rich in spirituality and brain tissue splattered across the floor. He casually