Her trembling fingers traced the phantom wound where her head had been moments ago. Dark ichor dripped from her lips as she coughed, her breathing ragged. Confusion warped her usually serene face.

"Impossible..." she rasped. "That strike was... entirely made of murderous intent... Even my Authority shouldn’t have—"

She cut herself off, eyes narrowing in a mix of awe and dawning fear as she looked down upon the monster below.

Alameck didn’t even bother to glance back up at her.

Instead, he rolled his shoulders with a casual sigh, as though the effort had bored him. His clawed fingers flexed once more, radiating faint crackles of black lightning.

He spoke again, softly this time—but his voice carried with unnatural weight.

"I despise interruptions," he said. "It spoils the tension."

He looked to the apostles once more.

Alameck turned his head slightly, as if savoring the tension in the air, then glanced toward Alister with a devilish smirk.

"So, brother..."

"How do you wish we share them?"

He gestured lazily toward the apostles still reeling below—those cursed remnants of the Abyss who had dared to step foot into their world.

"I’m sure you must be enraged, after all—these insects thought it wise to trample through your city. Your little sanctuary among the mortals."

He took another step forward, purple ether trailing from his clawed hands like mist off a blade.

"I mean, look at them."

He pointed to the stunned apostles.

"Scrambling to understand what just happened. They’re not even prey. They’re clutter. Should I sweep them aside?"

Alister didn’t respond at first.

Then, slowly, he turned his eyes to meet Alameck’s.

"I only care about one thing."

He then gazed directly at Eli’Erel, who still floated above, her throat half-healed and her eyes burning with rage.

"Her."

Alameck grinned wider.

"Ah... figures. You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic."

Then he turned to the others, eyes flashing with hunger.

"In that case, I’ll handle the rest."

Alister suddenly added,

"It’s my responsibility... to personally make her pay for what she did... to my father."

The word father echoed in the air louder than it was supposed to.

Alameck, standing just a few paces behind him, tilted his head. His smirk faded into a more serious expression as he regarded his brother with a long, scrutinizing stare.

Then, with a scoff and a glint of disdain in his ashen eyes, he asked,

"That man... is he really worth such respect? Such effort?"

Alister didn’t turn to face him, but he felt the weight of Alameck’s words. He knew exactly what his brother was referring to.

The question wasn’t about Eli’Erel or vengeance.

It was about Galisk.

About the man who was Alister’s biological father in this life... compared to the divine father they had both once known.

Alameck was asking: Is this mortal truly worthy of that title?

A faint silence hung between them.

Alister closed his eyes for a moment. He saw Galisk’s smile when he met them for the first time, the way he laughed with Miyu after their spar, the bruises he bore from the battle with Eli’Erel that left him on the verge of death, the desperate look in his eyes to make up for lost time—only to barely be able to.

He could tell that man loved him and his sister. He could see it in his eyes. What man wouldn’t be happy to spend time with children he sadly thought he lost with his dead wife?

The man’s life had been a mess—losing his wife and not being a part of his children’s childhood would weigh on any man.

He deserves a show of respect, of love.

He deserves to be called father.

Then he opened his eyes again.

"He wasn’t as powerful as our real father," Alister said softly. "He couldn’t destroy worlds or bend reality. But he’s borne the burden of safeguarding this entire planet from outside influences. It takes a big heart to shoulder the responsibility of humanity’s safety—my safety—like that. I knew Father’s power was one of the things we admired about him..."

He turned, meeting Alameck’s stare head-on.

"But you and I both know—power doesn’t make a father."

Alameck’s jaw tensed. He said nothing, but the flicker of something in his eyes—an old wound, perhaps—gave away that the words had landed.

Alister looked back toward Eli’Erel, his voice gaining edge.

"She didn’t just try to kill him. She mocked him. Treated his sacrifice as a joke. So yes, I’ll make her bleed."

His aura flared again, golden flames licking the edges of his form.

And this time, Alameck said nothing at all.

He simply stepped back—and smiled.

Alameck let out a low chuckle and shook his head, strands of silver hair cascading down his shoulders like rivers of moonlight tainted with void. His clawed fingers flexed once more, then stilled.

"Well then," he said with a shrug. "Whatever. Sentimentality was always your thing, not mine."

He turned his gaze back toward the apostles.

"But I suppose it makes for decent motivation."

With that, Alameck stepped forward, descending toward the battlefield like a slow-moving tempest. Each footfall reverberated through the ground, sending out ripples of pressure that cracked the earth beneath him. Dark mist began to curl around his form, rising like funeral smoke as his monstrous presence eclipsed everything around him.

The apostles flinched.

Even Helexor, who had long since abandoned fear, took a hesitant step back.

"You maggots should’ve stayed in the Abyss," Alameck muttered, almost to himself. "At least then your deaths wouldn’t be so... humiliating."

Alameck cracked his neck with a casual roll of his shoulders, the sound echoing like splintering bone across the battlefield.

"Alright, you maggots... Entertain me... But before we proceed with the opening play—"

His eyes landed on the spear Yanzi was holding, noticing traces of golden blood on its tip.

He gritted his teeth.

In the next instant—

The ground shattered beneath him.

He blurred—a streak of darkness and silver lightning.

Yanzi barely had time to turn.

Too slow.

Alameck appeared behind her, his arm already buried deep through her back. His claws burst through her chest, clutching something wet and beating.

Her heart.

Still pulsing.

Ripped out so fast it was still alive.

Yanzi’s scream choked off as ichor flooded her throat. Her body went limp—still hovering midair only because Alameck held her there, arm buried to the elbow in her spine.

Alameck then smiled as he said, "As I’ve said a thousand times, only I am allowed to hurt my brother."