Zephyra smirked, wiping the blood from the corner of her lips as she struggled to stand.
"Kenjirou…" she said breathlessly, eyes gleaming, "…give me your mana."
Kenjirou's grin widened.
"As you wish… my queen."
He stepped forward, and his cursed left hand—normally unstable, overflowing with a hunger for power, blood, and destruction—glowed softly.
It was unnatural.
The cursed arm, the very weapon that could destroy men and melt armor, trembled.
And yet, when Kenjirou gently placed it over Zephyra's chest—nothing happened.
No devouring.
No harm.
Only warmth.
Because the curse couldn't harm her. Would never harm her.
Only her.
"Take it all," he whispered.
"Everything I am… everything I've stolen… all the power, all the blood—take it, Zephyra."
Dark crimson mana began to flow from his palm, pouring into Zephyra like a raging current.
Her body lit up with red-black patterns. Her muscles tensed. Her aura exploded outward in waves.
BOOOOOM!!!
