Azazel's Guard shifts again.
With a hiss of dark magic, the armor peels away from Alter's body, dissolving into black mist before reforming midair. Three spinning chakrams emerge from the smoke, orbiting her with blistering speed, cutting arcs through the air as they deflect every strike that dares to approach.
This has created a barrier for her, a safe zone to do what she needed.
Time. That's all she needs. Time to awaken the fourth eye of Sheol.
The divine blade drinks from her again.
As the blood seeps from her finger into the runes along its surface, I feel something shift. The world warps around us, our vision blurs at the edges, like ink bleeding into water. A chill runs down my spine, crawling through our shared veins.
I close my eyes and reach inward.
The soul-space greets me, vast and silent.
