"Why is it like this?" Viktor Flint huffed, staring at his shaking hand while he clutched his other arm which bled black blood, he hissed and shook his head and spat to the side visibly disgusted by himself. "The Ikaris of the past would have long been killed by this power, and yet..." He trailed from his mental breakdown and stared up at Ikaris.
"How?" The man asked. "How, Ikaris!?" He roared, flashing his hand free after it had healed completely and stood from his crouch staring at Ikaris who had quietly waited, aside from himself the other six generals had already been killed off, but true to her word she had continued to torture him, after all; his arrival was the reason they had to hide for two months, he was the one that chased Sol into the Khalla-Nova Collective, she held nothing but a deep loathing towards the man before her.
