"You will do no such thing."
The voice cut through the air like a blade.
Everyone looked up.
The pocket dimension had collapsed—dissolved into ash and flickers of broken magic. They were now back in the real world. Open skies. Cold wind. And above them, the council of leaders floated, silent and watching.
Their presence changed the air—heavy, suffocating. Not a word was spoken, but every gaze felt like judgment.
Lucifer stood still. Blood on his coat, chest rising slowly.
Ruka and Temmy flanked him—silent, breathing hard. The fight was over, but the tension wasn't. Not even close.
Greta floated above, her eyes locked on her daughter's scorched, disfigured form lying in the rubble.
Her face twisted. Anger. Pain. Guilt. She looked at Lucifer, and for a moment, her killing intent surged like a knife ready to drop.
But then she saw the others.
Ken. Angel. Ella. Francisca. Mob.
Exhausted. Injured. Burned and broken—but alive. All of them.
She clenched her fist.
