The earth trembled under Vince's feet, the Taishin energy bleeding out of him like sunlight through shattered glass. His body glowed faintly, veins etched in molten gold as the Seventh Gate consumed him from within.
He smiled faintly through the pain.
"Then I'll die doing what masters should protecting those who still have something to live for."
A slow clap echoed through the ruin.
"Ahahahaha… so this is the conclusion you've come up with, Wandering Fist?"
From the smoking ridge above, K emerged, his porcelain mask gleaming, black robes whispering in the wind. The void mist coiled around him like serpents, each movement calculating, deliberate his aura was not rage, but cold intellect, the emotion of someone who viewed war as a board game.
His eyes bright, unnatural locked on Vince.
"How poetic. The master who once swore to wander without attachments during the glory days… now dying for them instead…. How poetic"
