Dust, dust, and dust, all that could be seen–was dust. A ruined room in forgotten ruins. The centerpiece of the mighty explosion that grasped this labyrinth. The place where all goals and actions meet, and the place shall come to a conclusion.
After Jargon caused the internal working of the system to combust, this entire main chamber was reduced to debris and shrapnels, truly showing how drastic things turned.
Yet the perpetrator of all this destruction was all but harmed. He stood there silently, wielding his trusty gun, and a knife in the other hand. In simple terms: he stood like a hunter.
"There's still time to regret your actions." Jargon said with a low, stoic voice. "As long as you're willing to give your life willingly. I can make this experience less painful, peaceful."
As the man talked amidst the fire and fumes, it was not clear to who he spoke to. In this place, only carnage existed. But Jargon sensed something else.
