The three soul marks pressed together, becoming a single flawless mirror that shed a pure, pristine glow.
At the same time, a phantom boy holding a war halberd rose quietly behind Orson. He was still all clean lines and sharp grace, a face cut from marble, standing like a monument. The aura rolling off him was that of a peerless War Supreme.
"Long time no see, Orson."
A voice full of approval sounded. Orson smiled. "Yeah, Brother Gongsun."
"BlazeKing…"
Bellara stared, dazed, at the black-clad youth. Even the Fire God had feared this one by three parts. The master of Radiant Shuttle. The BlazeKing.
"You too, little Bellara. Been a while."
The youth bared his teeth in a warm, neighborly smile and reached out to smooth Bellara's hair. Bellara's face flashed with panic and she sprang back hundreds of meters.
The impression he had left on her was too terrifying. If Orson dreaming of godslaying was arrogant fantasy, the man before her had drunk divine blood for real.
