We dragged Zeus out into the cold, damp street, his bare feet scraping against the pavement as he whimpered beneath Cyrus's iron grip. The tech-dampening fields of his mansion finally faded, and my skin prickled with a sudden rush of reawakened adrenaline. My Devil magic was back.
I didn't waste a single second. I reached out, slamming my hand over his sweating forehead, and forced my way into his mind.
"Let's see what you're hiding, you little b@stard," I muttered.
His mind was a labyrinth of filth and rage. Images flashed through my consciousness in a violent, chaotic blur. I saw his childhood—a miserable, pathetic existence as a dwarf mocked by the world.
His parents were monsters, locked in a cycle of horrific abuse that molded him into the angry, vengeful creature he was today. He had spent his whole life trying to overcompensate for his stature by gathering wealth, power, and building fortresses to keep the world out.
