Roman's body trembled as blood continued to pour from his open wound, staining the ground beneath him. His once formidable black armor, now battered and fading, flickered like a dying ember, barely clinging to its form. He could feel his strength waning, the life slipping away from him with every passing moment.
A grim smile crossed Roman's lips as he accepted the inevitability of his fate. "Looks like I'm about to die," he muttered, his voice tinged with a mixture of resignation and defiance. Despite the overwhelming odds, there was no fear in his eyes—only a steely determination that refused to be extinguished.
He looked up at Neato, the monstrous figure before him. The grotesque transformation had turned Neato into something beyond human comprehension, a being of pure malice and darkness. Roman's smile widened, almost in amusement. "Look at you," he said, his voice growing stronger despite his weakened state. "You've turned into a monster."
Neato remained silent, his hollow, soulless gaze fixed on Roman. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension, the finality of their confrontation looming like a storm on the horizon.
Roman staggered to his feet, clutching the shattered remains of his katana. His resolve burned brightly, undeterred by the pain wracking his body. "Since I'm about to die, let's give it our all," he declared, his voice firm and resolute.
He raised his broken weapon, and with a final prayer on his lips, he spoke the incantation that had been buried deep within him, waiting for this very moment. "In the darkest day and in the brightest light, all light will turn to black, and all black will turn to light... Sea of the Condemned!"
As the words left his mouth, a brilliant light engulfed the remnants of his katana. The broken steel was mended in an instant, transformed into a pristine, white blade that shimmered with an ethereal glow. It was a sword unlike any other, a weapon forged from Roman's very soul, a beacon of hope in the encroaching darkness.
Roman held the beautiful white sword aloft, feeling a surge of renewed strength course through him. "Let's give it our all," he repeated, his voice filled with unwavering conviction.
Neato, for the first time, responded to Roman's challenge. His voice, a deep, resonant echo that seemed to come from the abyss itself, uttered words that sent chills down Roman's spine. "For in darkness, the truth can no longer hide. With their treasure of the gods, you denied... Forbidden sinners' final breath."
As the last syllable left Neato's lips, his four arms transformed into razor-sharp blades, each one gleaming with a malevolent, bloodthirsty edge. The air around him crackled with dark energy, and his form seemed to grow even more imposing, more terrifying.
Roman and Neato stood across from each other, the tension between them palpable, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of their impending clash. They were warriors on the brink of their final battle, each ready to give everything they had, knowing that only one would walk away.
END OF CHAPTER 55