The Kashima Maru fleet had moved past the shattered remains of the Abyssal Palace, entering the inner sanctuary of the God of Death's realm. Here, the sea of ash was so thick that the water felt like cooling lava, a viscous, grey medium that groaned against the iron hulls. The sky was an inverted bowl of leaden clouds, lit only by the ghost-lights that drifted up from the lightless depths—remnants of souls that had been stripped of their identity, floating like cold, pale embers.
Ren Hanshin stood on the upper observation deck. He was a celestial phenomenon. His porcelain skin pulsed with a soft, amber radiance that made the falling ash evaporate before it could touch him. The red cracks of the Weaver's Mark had evolved into a complex network of geometric lines, a circuit of fate that burned with a steady, lethal heat.
[Synchronization: 57.1% -> 57.4%]
[Condition: Adapting Divinity]
[Strong Aura from Host detected..—The Executioner's Silence]
