The air in the capital didn't just smell like smoke; it smelled like the end of an era.
The violet sky flickered. For a heartbeat, the Demon paused, its form shivering like a reflection in disturbed water. Then, with a sound like a long-held breath finally being released, the silhouette shattered into a million sparks of white light. They didn't burn; they drifted upward, mending the sky as they went. [S3E10] The Demon of the End
High above the crumbling spires of the Imperial City, the sky had bruised into a deep, sickly violet—the hallmark of the Dimensional Rift. Below, the survivors of the 13th Division huddled in the shadow of a fallen clock tower. Their commander, Kaito, gripped a blade that was humming with a frantic, rhythmic pulse. It wasn't his heartbeat; it was the sword’s. "It’s here," Kaito whispered. The air in the capital didn't just smell