The collapsed inner fortress ruins were exposed to the cold wind on the mountaintop, and the howling mountain wind gradually dissipated the scent of blood that lingered here.
Leon stared at the demon sword on the ground, covered in crimson patterns, as if he heard the wails of countless ghosts hidden beneath its blade.
He could feel a vague force and whispers tempting him to wield this powerful soul device...
Of course, being aware of this, Leon naturally would not succumb to the guidance of this magic power.
What's more, he had already dealt with the source of this power more than once and had witnessed the source's impotent fury when trapped helplessly.
To deceive him into submitting to the Blood Demon, even if Squash appeared before him with full knowledge of his nature, he would never succeed.
Shaking his head slightly and diverting his gaze, Leon turned to look at his close friend, who was sealing his father's ashes into an urn.
