"You!" Abel finally reacted, a surge of fury and humiliation rising within him, the bitter sting of being toyed with enveloping his heart.
But in the blink of an eye, he tried to regain composure, intending to look up and question the Dominion Holy Image, hoping to mitigate the potentially burgeoning public outcry.
However, the moment he raised his head, it was as if he had been struck by lightning. The towering body of the Dominion Holy Image had frozen in place, the crystal on its head flickering erratically.
It had cracked open, and then, like snow melting under the warmth of the winter sun, its colossal mechanical figure began to dissolve.
It had truly self-destructed.
It was over. A sense of despair inexplicably surged in Abel's heart.
Choosing self-destruction rather than serving him—there could be no stronger evidence than this.
