Black mist slowly crept from the center of the battlefield, spreading like a wound exposing itself to the world. This mist was not mere smoke it was the manifestation of Sylvia's evolved Death Aura, a form never before reached by any being. Every strand of mist carried the scent of destruction, silence, and the end of life itself.
Step by step, the battlefield fell silent. No more screams. No more clashing steel. Only the faint sound of crack… slosh… crakk… as the bodies of unfortunate demons disintegrated into ash and black fluid the moment the aura touched them.
The once-proud, snarling demons fell one after another. Even the four-horned demon who had nearly killed Sylvia froze in place. His back trembled, as though gripped by a winter from the ancient ages. In his eyes, the figure of Sylvia now cloaked in fog was like the goddess of death herself.
"W-What is this… this isn't ordinary undead magic… this… this is a primeval curse…!"
