Amid the chaos, Sol remained seated in his private pavilion, sipping his wine as though nothing of consequence had happened. The battle had torn through the Dark Pavilion, leaving shattered tables, broken pillars, and scattered debris across the open-roof dining area. Smoke drifted between the buildings, while frightened customers and servants hurried away from the destruction. Yet the Prince of Pride showed no intention of moving from his seat.
Leo stood beside him, his attention fixed on Belial, who had reached the edge of the damaged building. The Prince of Envy stared toward the salon Damian had crashed into, his expression growing increasingly troubled.
After a moment, Belial glanced back at Sol, apparently weighing his options, before turning his attention to the salon again. Leo followed the exchange with his eyes, then looked at his master.
"Are you not going to help him?"
