In the midst of their reunited clash, keeping it standard with just an exchange of simple, but well-executed slashes that were guarded against--something finally happened. It caught his eyes as he went in for a swing of Belus; the few entities in robes that existed in the stands were now plentiful--and crimson had painted the other side of the barrier, coating the stands and walls as a scenery of demon corpses were strewn about.
It was only thirty--no, twenty seconds at most...how? When? How did this happen? He thought.
His stomach sunk at this sight, halting his attack as his breathing became ragged.
It was as if reality itself flickered to a nightmare; the cloaked figure still stood as statuesque as ever, holding blades drenched in blood, having painted the lavish material in abundant crimson.
"WHAT IN THE-- WHAT HAS OCCURRED HERE--"
