The Arena of Epiphany, a colossal stage that had witnessed the feats of impossible power, now focused its attention on a single, broken figure.
Sparx, the angelic demigod, was no longer a being of arrogant, celestial beauty. He was a defeated warrior, his divine light extinguished, his body trembling with a weakness that was more than just physical.
He was on his knees, his magnificent wings, now tattered and dull, spread uselessly on the dusty ground.
He had been mentally and physically exhausted, his mana reserves drained to nothing in a futile assault against an unbreachable wall.
But the true, killing blow had not come from Ragnok's fist. It had come from a simple, silent gesture from the high stands of the Gods. He had watched his creator, his master, his God, Venus, look away.
That single, silent act of abandonment had shattered Sparx's mind.
