The Spire of the Final Breath loomed over the Necropolis like a jagged needle of obsidian, stitching the bruised violet sky to the bone-white earth. At its base, the air had become a pressurized medium of ending, a conceptual weight that threatened to collapse the lungs of any living thing that dared to draw breath.
Ren Hanshin stood before the Ferryman of Souls, his silhouette a terrifying fusion of porcelain skin and crimson silk. The starlight hair that flowed from his head drifted in a wind that didn't exist, and his eyes were like twin pits of white-hot starlight, and were fixed on the hooded figure before him.
[Synchronization: 60.2%]
[Condition: Divine Ego Dominance]
[Mana Reserve: 148 / 150]
The Severance of Destiny hummed in Ren's right hand. The scythe was an extension of his physical body. The crimson glass of the blade thumped in sync with the Weaver's own heartbeat, radiating a heat that turned the surrounding ash into red vapor.
