The dust, heavy and laden with the smell of burnt sulfur, finally began to dissipate under the effect of the unstable air currents generated by the explosion. In the center of the room, the debris from the basaltic pillars bore witness to the violence of the previous shock. Klein stood straight, his black katana in hand, his dark coat barely stained by the ash. Beside him, Nox Walpurgy displayed a disconcerting nonchalance, playing with the red lightning that danced between his gloved fingers. Both seemed unharmed, protected by their respective auras against the blast that should have reduced them to pieces.
Facing them, the entity that now inhabited Akazel's body floated a few centimeters above the vitrified floor. Belzebub's gaze, of abyssal and malevolent depth, fixed intensely on Klein.
