Silence settled over the room like a physical weight.
No words followed the vision. No movement either. Trafalgar remained where he stood, a short distance from the bed, while Selendra sat motionless atop the sheets, her posture rigid, gaze unfocused as if her mind were still somewhere far away. The warm glow of the mana lamps felt dimmer now, almost intrusive, as though the room itself had witnessed something it wasn't meant to hold.
Trafalgar didn't rush to speak.
He already knew.
There was no doubt in his mind about the figure Selendra had described. The black armor, polished and imposing. The stance. The weight of inevitability around him. Trafalgar didn't need a face to recognize himself.
'That was me,' he thought coldly.
Armor of the Unborn Star.
He had already used it, so he knows that is the armor that Selendra described. But this… this wasn't abstract. This wasn't a distant branch that could be dismissed as unlikely.
There were bodies. Too many to ignore.
