The Cryptic Sun didn't yield, nor did anyone ever trust him to do so. His reputation was not one of honor or straightforward battles. It was always shadowed in deceit, plotting, and twisted motives, and today was no different. As we stood in the suffocating atmosphere of the Dark Garden, every breath felt weighted, as if even the air was trying to warn us of the dangers ahead.
The moment the three pseudo-Heaven Stage slaves had been eliminated, I knew something was wrong. A sinking, nauseating feeling crept up my spine, and an ominous ringing filled my ears. It wasn't just fear—it was a sensation that made my very soul quiver, as though the world itself was groaning under the strain of something horrible, something monstrous, that was brewing deep within.
