The wind in the dark palace was hushed, flowing along the lower ground. The upper atmosphere of the palace was drenched by an unnatural darkness—most especially with the strange movement of the bird from earlier.
The atmosphere changed drastically. It wasn't a temperature drop or rise. In fact, there was no visible change. Everything was just somehow registering to Shin's sharp senses that had been honed by his years and experience of brutal slaughter.
Shin held a sword in his hand. Suho Kageyama also held another sword. It was long and curved, a perfect odachi that looked like it had been dipped into liquid darkness.
The obsidian color of the blade seemed to drip, in fact.
The Patriarch held the sword with both hands and looked at his brother.
Shin was also doing the same. One hand was holding the hilt of his own curved katana, while the other hand was just beneath the pommel, supporting it.
