Bucharest. Amid the scarred ruins and shocking massive crater, only a single small figure stood tall.
The black sun on his chest had fallen silent and dimmed. The Sentinel Armor receded like flowing water. Sean let out a breath of foul air, his pale face carrying a trace of exhaustion. This had been an unprecedented battle—a contest of wills against Mephisto, with both sides draining every last shred of resolve.
One had been tortured through countless repeated deaths, while the other had endured the output of immense energy beyond his limits. Comparatively speaking, the latter had it easier.
Having his body shattered thousands upon thousands of times, his flesh stripped away, had directly robbed that Hell Lord of the will to live. That horrifying torment with no end in sight was enough to crush even an iron will.
Meanwhile, every cell in Sean's body trembled, and even his muscles felt sore. His indestructible, powerful body was like a machine pushed beyond its limits.
Still, it was not as though he had gained nothing. At the very least, the progress bar glowing faintly in his mind seemed to have loosened a little. He had moved another small step closer to the fifty-percent threshold.
The explosive growth of the early stages naturally meant slower progress later on. Sean was not surprised by that. As long as he maintained steady progress, he would eventually reach his intended destination.
Sparks traced out lines as a circular passage expanded to the size of a person. Ancient One, draped in flowing white robes, emerged beneath the morning sun, her gleaming bald head especially eye-catching.
"Why are you Kamar-Taj sorcerers all like the police, only showing up to clean up after everything is over?"
Ignoring the young man's teasing, the Sorcerer Supreme stamped her foot. Invisible ripples