Max stood amid the ruined field, where the corpses of dozens of demons lay motionless, limbs twisted, weapons shattered, bodies pierced clean through by the glowing remnants of his sword barrage.
He didn't blink.
Didn't flinch.
There was no pity in his gaze.
They used humans like cattle. That alone had sealed their fate.
With a quiet exhale, Max turned around—intending to speak to Barry—but froze mid-step.
His breath caught in his throat at what he saw.
All of them.
The villagers—every man, woman, elder, and child—had fallen to their knees. Foreheads pressed against the dirt. Hands clasped together. Prostrating themselves before him like devout followers worshipping a god.
'What the hell…?'
Max's brow furrowed, eyes darting across the sea of bowed figures. For a moment, he was too stunned to speak.
Then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
'Right…' he thought. 'They've never seen power like this before.'
