Max's eyes widened.
His heart dropped.
His most powerful attack—his trump card—couldn't even leave a scratch.
Mark looked at him, face still calm, still smiling.
"Why the long face?" he asked. "Let me guess… I forgot to mention?"
He stepped forward slightly, his voice rising.
"You're standing in the presence of a god."
He let the word hang in the air.
"The God."
A hush fell over the hall.
The word hit harder than any spell.
Yes, they'd all heard the legends—of how power could grow beyond mortal bounds. Of Mythic ranks, and perhaps even the Divine. But to declare oneself as "the God"?
That was blasphemy.
Insanity.
Arrogance beyond comprehension.
And yet—none of them could deny what they had seen.
His strength. His invulnerability. His command over the infernal.
He was something beyond them.
"And now you don't believe me," Mark said with a light chuckle, shrugging. "Typical."
He turned back to Max, that same twisted grin spreading across his face again.
