Kaito
He saw Mio sprawled on the floor.
Must have passed out. Blood loss finally caught up with her.
Still alive.
Unfortunate.
The thought came and went. He'd wanted her dead since the cathedral.
Since Aoi didn't come home.
But wanting wasn't the same as doing.
And right now, he had a god to kill.
The daemon's grip was still tight around his blade, fingers wrapped around the steel where it jutted from the creature's chest. Golden blood running down its wrist.
An aggressive act. To grab another's weapon, to restrain it, to prevent its use.
That was violence; intent to harm through restraint.
The purity field died.
Kaito felt it go. The pressure that had stopped his sheathed strike before, the wall of divine will that had frozen his muscles. Gone.
[Lord Daimon's Farewell] Grade: A (Artifact) Passive: Automatic execution within 3 consecutive strikes. Cost: 1 year of the wielder's life per strike.
