The next few hours were spent planning an assault on the demons. A small reconnaissance force was allowed to cross the bridge.

Led by Velora Nyxfall, an assassin whose reputation for vanishing into shadows was well known, the scouts would be the eyes meant to avoid any traps that might await them beyond the veil of mist covering the demon side.

Abellona sat nearby, though her rest was a light and restless one. She occasionally shot Damon sidelong glances but said nothing.

There were hundreds of magical orbs hovering in the air, their faint blue light flickering like stars, recording and broadcasting every moment to the entire world.

She couldn't risk letting her emotions slip, she still had to act out her role as a princess, even when her heart was heavy with unspoken grievance.

Abellona wasn't the only one looking at him. Xander's gaze kept cutting toward Damon too, sharp and filled with something that made Damon's temples ache.

The combat zone shimmered faintly in the distance, the glowing border shrinking as the army advanced.

Damon narrowed his eyes.

He was certain Lilith had already made it to the main island. His shadow clone had seen her there, darting through the ruins like a phantom, but he'd lost sight of her the moment she teleported away.

'What's she up to anyway.'

Then there was Sylvia. The thought of her made him sigh. He was still worried.

Damon stood to the side, watching the seven-thousand-strong army march. The rhythmic stomps of boots and the metallic clatter of armor echoed across the bridge.

The air trembled with energy, banners fluttered like tongues of fire in the rising wind. The entire formation had been organized and restructured by Abellona herself, though Renata's contribution couldn't be overlooked. Somehow, Renata had achieved the impossible, turning what was once a chaotic, disordered mass of soldiers into a unified, disciplined force that moved as one.

Abellona had even mentioned recruiting Renata, though the latter had shut her down instantly.

Damon remained by the side of the bridge, arms crossed, watching the army march past him. He wasn't assigned any role. No command or soldiers.

No supplies. No resources. Nothing. His task was brutally simple, kill as many demons as possible when the time came.

He wouldn't be joining the early offensive either.

His excuse had been that he hadn't seen Sylvia Moonveil, and he intended to look for her.

"She has to be on the island, right? She was following Lilith."

That uncertainty was reason enough for him to wait while everyone else marched to battle. The magic orbs still hovered around him, capturing his cold, detached expression for the world to see.

But that wasn't the only reason. Damon was still injured, and he preferred to wait until his shadow clone had devoured enough lives for his soul to recover. Only then would he enter the battlefield with his full strength.

One by one, everyone left. They had gone off to fight, leaving only Matia by his side. Waton had also stayed, apparently deciding to stick with Damon for now. Across the lines, he could see the prince on the other side of the bridge answering questions from Wendy, who also hadn't joined the front.

Leona had wanted to remain as well, but Evangeline had dragged her away by the ear, forcing the young beastkin girl to join the fray despite her protests.

'Most of these people will die by my hand... how lucky…'

The thought lingered bitterly as the sound of footsteps approached from behind.

Each stride pressed deep into the soft earth, the crunch of crushed dirt echoing faintly beneath the hum of marching troops.

Damon didn't even turn.

"Xander…"

The brown-haired young man gritted his teeth, voice cutting through the drone of the distant army.

"Damon… you haven't forgotten, have you…?"

Damon turned his head slightly, his eyes flicking toward the floating orbs still recording them.

"You wouldn't want to talk right now, would you…"

Xander's eyes darted to the orbs. Without hesitation, a surge of gravity pulsed from his body, slamming tens of them into the ground with thunderous force. The orbs cracked and shattered, leaving small craters smoking around them.

The backlash hit instantly—Xander's medallions diminished, his body briefly flickered with a curse mark from breaking the orbs, but he didn't seem to care.

He walked up beside Damon, crossing his arms.

"Now we can talk."

Damon sighed, closing his eyes as he felt a familiar pang in his chest, the ache of something he thought he'd buried already.

"What do you want, Xander… You just destroyed public property, you know…"

Xander glared, his expression carved in stone.

"This isn't the time for your jokes, Damon. Our deal. We had a contract. Why aren't you acting?"

Damon's tone remained calm, his eyes half-lidded.

"Revenge isn't something you rush, Xander. It's a dish best served cold. Haven't you heard the saying… for a noble man, even ten years isn't too late for vengeance?"

Xander's fist clenched, his knuckles whitening.

"Why wait when my enemy is within reach? Uphold your vow."

His aura flared violently, distorting the air around them.

"I summon you to fulfill your oath!"

Damon's eyes darkened. The shadow beneath his feet deepened, spreading outward like spilled ink. His smile was cold, sharp, and yet there was a faint sorrow behind it.

"Fulfill yours, Xander. My help was conditional. You haven't met the terms yet. I asked for something before you could earn my aid… Xander, you haven't given it to me."

He turned his head slightly, his voice lowering, smooth and cutting.

"You want revenge? Then you must be willing to pay its price. Keep your oath and I'll keep mine."

"Don't make demands, while giving nothing in return."

The ground beneath Xander cracked, fine lines of energy running through it as his aura flared once again.

The air trembled, humming with the vibration of his fury. He was close, so close to breaking the barrier between second and third class. His hatred burned so fiercely it was almost tangible, a physical pressure pressing down on everything around him.

And then—just as suddenly—it vanished.

"Fine. So be it." His voice was cold, restrained, but full of venom.

"Until then, you will still fight Amon, will you not?"

Damon nodded slightly, watching as Xander's energy stabilized. He had done it. He had broken through. His desire for revenge had pushed him beyond his limits.

But as Damon watched, he couldn't help feeling something heavy settle in his chest. There was a sinister change in Xander, something dark that clung to his soul now.

It was almost tragic, like watching an angel fall from the heavens, plunging into filth until its radiant white wings turned black and its once beautiful form became hideous.

Damon sighed softly.

"I will… I will fight Amon. But Xander…"

He smiled faintly cold, composed, but there was a flicker of sadness in his eyes.

"I hope you're proud of what you've become. As the artist behind your downfall… I can't help but feel a touch of melancholy."

Xander didn't understand his words. Was Damon referring to his descent into hatred, or to their deal? It didn't matter to him. His revenge was all that did.

But Damon knew Xander would misunderstand, that he wouldn't see the truth behind the words. The artist behind his downfall wasn't poetic symbolism. It was literal. Damon was the one who had killed Xander's brother.

Xander turned and walked away, his face set, his aura sharp like the edge of a blade. He joined the marching army without another word.

His departure, however, had consequences.

Not for his revenge, but for Damon.

Because Xander had destroyed the one thing protecting him.

"Run… where will you run now?"

The voice was cold, cutting through the air like frost. Damon sighed quietly.

Xander had destroyed the broadcast orbs, and with them gone, there was nothing keeping Abellona from approaching.

She stepped forward, her presence heavy, her crimson eyes narrowed with restrained anger.

"You have some serious explaining to do," she said, her tone dangerously calm.

"And for both our sakes, I hope it's good."

Damon closed his eyes, resigned to his fate.

"Ah… I was wondering when you'd stop pretending to be patient."

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