The Edge That Split Heaven
"Azriel, I admit that I have reached my limit in this battle. So I hope you can grant me a favor." Anos spoke as his sword faded into nothingness. Azriel looked at him in interest, he could pretty much guess what Anos wanted from him.
The endless white world inside the soul realm had long since become unstable from their battle. Cracks of distorted mana floated through the empty space like shattered mirrors. The ground beneath them no longer remained smooth and pure white. It was covered in scars left behind by sword strikes, explosions, and overwhelming pressure.
Anos stood in the middle of it all breathing heavily.
Cuts covered his muscular body. Blood trickled slowly down his arms. His black hair clung slightly to his forehead from sweat, while his golden eyes still burned fiercely with excitement rather than despair.
Even after being completely outclassed—
He was smiling.
Azriel noticed that smile and could not help but chuckle inwardly.
