Damian walked forward.
The earth responded to his steps, soil parting before him and reforming behind him. He approached the burial site with the calm of someone taking a morning stroll, his expression betraying nothing of the violence he had just unleashed.
The ground shifted one final time.
Two heads emerged from the packed earth, faces barely recognizable through the burns and the dirt and the damage. Their eyes were still open, still aware, still processing the impossibility of what had just happened to them. Their mouths moved in silent attempts to speak, to beg, to curse.
No sound emerged.
Damian stood above them.
He looked down at these Seventh Circle Physique Awakening Imperators who had approached him with such confidence. These beings who had expected to break his legs and drag him before their master. These monsters who served a traitor and had probably participated in atrocities across the Lands of Stone without a moment's remorse.
He raised his foot.
