Dante rushed forward.
The storm still raged around them, snow and shards of ice spiraling in furious gales, but his eyes never wavered from the man standing at its center.
He really didn't care whether his brother hated him right now, or whether the rest of the squad, or even Ellie herself, looked on with fear and disgust.
None of it mattered.
All he wanted — what his soul screamed for was to kill the young man in front of him.
Azel.
The name itself was poison to him.
If he could cut that body in half, if he could silence that infuriating grin forever, then the goddess would finally see.
She would turn her eyes toward him as she was meant to.
After making sure Azel was dead, the goddess would pick him without hesitation.
That was the only future Dante would allow.
But then —
The world turned white.
Literally, and figuratively.
Azel's stance shifted, subtle yet monumental.
