"So, this is the might of the Saint in this era?" the man murmured, his voice deep and unimpressed.
"You're a disgrace compared to your predecessor."
Aether's breath hitched. His nails clawed at the iron grip around his throat as his body dangled in the air, feet barely brushing the snow-covered ground.
"Y-You! How are you still alive?! You were supposed to be dead!" he rasped, his wide eyes locked onto the man who held him effortlessly.
The red-eyed man tilted his head slightly, his smirk unwavering.
"Aren't you the one who chased me for two years?"
Aether's face turned deathly pale. His entire body stiffened in raw horror as realization sank in.
Dalia gasped.
"Claude!"
Her voice trembled as she looked upon the figure before her—her son, alive and standing.
Hope surged through her as she stepped forward, but the closer she got, the more that hope shattered.
She stopped abruptly. This… this wasn't Claude.