Viper stood upon a nearby observation terrace, his features twisted into a mask of dark ecstasy, his eyes reflecting the dancing orange tongues of flame like two pits of hellfire. In his trembling hand, he held an empty vial that had contained Liquid Phlogiston—a volatile, forbidden alchemical accelerant.
This was no ordinary oil; it was a substance that didn't just consume wood and stone, but fed greedily on the very mana in the air, turning magic into fuel. He had meticulously poured the toxin into the ventilation shafts and the ancient support beams of the spire. He didn't want Gwen to be a bride anymore; he didn't want to possess the Sun. He wanted her to be a martyr—a scorched warning to anyone who dared defy the Serpent's ambition.
