In a gloomy, dim location, flashes of light sliced through the air, painting a canvas of blood and guts on walls. Screams of pain and countless curses echoed after. Yet, the streaks of death were unmoving. It did not stop until the beings hiding in the dark had perished.
The wails of sorrow continued as the streak kept on, striking a deep dread for any who listened—to any who dared to listen.
The cries soon succumbed to unseen might, softening to inaudible lengths, and never to be seen in sight.
Only the thumps of falling objects reverberated, and the final painful grunt of a dying man, clinging to goals he lost.
The shade of darkness soon faded, and the humanoid outline could be seen on the ground, motionless. They lay on the cold floor like a corpse, and the person's fresh blood flowed out of their injuries and submerged their figure.
The mysterious person was none order than–Hakakama,
