Chapter 221: Broken Idols
The sky over the Grand Hotel was no longer a ceiling; it was a maelstrom.
Clouds of pulverized concrete and green ghost-fire choked the air.
The once-magnificent terrace was a crater, a gaping wound in the architecture of the floating city.
At the center of the devastation stood Alastor Greythorn.
The Sword Saint was a figure of brutal elegance. His white coat was shredded, revealing skin etched with scars that seemed to pulse with silver light.
His greatsword, a slab of runic steel that weighed more than a man, was a blur in his hands.
Opposite him, the Abyssal Juggernaut roared—a sound that rattled teeth and shattered the remaining windows of the hotel. The demon was a titan of bone and hate, its twenty-foot frame wreathed in necrotic flame.
It swung its massive flail. The spiked iron ball, the size of a carriage, whistled through the air, trailing green fire.
Alastor didn't dodge. He stepped into the swing.
"Too slow!" he bellowed.
