Kael moved through the House of Crimson base with purpose. His bloodline forms had retracted—white hair shifting back to black, horns receding into his skull.
Fifteen minutes. That was all it had taken. Fifteen minutes since he broke free of the rune cuffs, killed the guards, and destroyed Claudia. The Shadow Vatican operatives scattered throughout the installation continued their routines, oblivious to the fact that the broken captive in the torture chamber had become the most dangerous thing inside the building.
His soul sense swept ahead—PULSE—two hundred meters of perception mapping the corridors, identifying signatures, tracking movements. He found Draxos easily. The Asura Demon's mana signature was unmistakable—a dense, dark red presence radiating ancient demonic energy.
