"What is so funny, demon?" Cain asked in a cold, disgusted tone.
Elion didn't answer because he couldn't.
Every breath felt like it was tearing through his chest, and the laughter that had escaped him moments ago had left his lungs burning and his throat feeling raw.
His body also refused to cooperate with his actions, so all he could do was remain there on his hands and knees, blood dripping onto the stone beneath him as his vision flickered.
Cain, however, did not wait for an answer, and instead, he took that silence as confirmation of his claim, his expression turning colder as he looked down at Elion.
"See," he said, his voice carrying easily across the arena, "he has already lost his mind."
The crowd stirred again, and the whispers grew louder, more uncertain, more divided, as suspicion began to take hold more firmly in the minds of those watching.
