Warlock Ch 392. Like A Hunter
Ryven didn't understand.
And then the world turned red.
The Hellfire Spear pierced through his chest from behind, crackling with fire and void.
He coughed once. Blood dripped down his chin.
But he smiled anyway.
"Got to see your face…"
The mask leaned in, silent.
Then the fire consumed everything.
Ryven's body collapsed.
Smoke rose from the crater.
The courtyard was silent again.
And the figure—cloaked, hooded, masked—stood alone.
No cheers. No echoes.
Just shadows.
The air still sizzled with residual heat from the last flare of [Hellfire Spear]. Cracks webbed through the cobbled ground, smoke curling in lazy tendrils from shattered stone and melted iron. The blood on Damian's hands had already cooled, but the sting hadn't faded.
Especially not the one on his shoulder.
