Thorns twined, the Radiance from the Confession Sword enveloped the entire square, no, half of Jiatai City.
Not far from the port outside, the calm ocean was abruptly split in two, those devout sea beasts gathered by the Holy Light, cowered within the gravel and muddy water, not daring to move.
Yet this sword, he could not completely strike down.
A hand clad in a bright red glove, adorned with a gemstone ring, gently grasped the blade's edge.
Holy Light spilled from the glove, silently, a clear grip mark appeared on the body of the Confession Sword as if the power of Time was altering the essence of the Confession Sword; it began to rust, to decay, and amidst the decaying blade, emerald thorns abruptly sprouted.
The fine, sharp thorns pierced through the bright red glove, successfully penetrating Charles I's flesh, and crimson drops of blood emerged.
