Chapter 118: An Eye
The massive figure finished emerging from the glyph, its grotesque form crackling with eldritch energy.
As its clawed limbs scraped across the bone-laden earth, it released a piercing, distorted scream that fractured the silence—a cry so unnatural it sent tremors through the very fabric of the aether.
The scream wasn’t merely sound. It was felt—in the lungs, in the bones, in the soul.
Seren’s crimson eyes flicked toward the boy beside her, her breath shallow from fatigue and frost. Her lips quivered—half with restrained anger, half with grim amusement.
"You ran," she said coldly, her voice tight with both accusation and relief. "Why are you here now?"
Einar rubbed the back of his neck, offering a sheepish smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I mean... I needed a breather. I did fight a lot before all this."
Seren’s expression didn’t soften. Her gaze returned to the battlefield littered with corpses, many of them still twitching with residual necrotic energy. She swept her sword to the side, flicking off frozen blood.
"A lot of people died," she said sharply. "Maybe you could’ve saved them."
Einar didn’t flinch. His shoulders rose in a casual shrug. "Didn’t know them. And let’s be honest—what if I stayed and got killed too?" His tone was light, but beneath it was an edge. "Dead heroism doesn’t mean much."
Seren stared at him, searching for something—disappointment, perhaps. But instead, a faint, sardonic smile tugged at her lips.
"You came back anyway. What now, then?" she asked. "You came for me?"