The chamber was alive with a tension that crackled in the air like static, the shadows seeming to press in from every corner. K-low's body lay motionless on the cold stone floor, his breath shallow and labored. His once-proud posture had been broken in an instant by the devastating force of the right-hand man's blade.
For a moment, all was still. The only sound was the faint hum of dark energy that lingered in the air, echoing the finality of K-low's fate.
The leader's voice cut through the silence, cold and unforgiving. "Remove him."
The right-hand man, his armor gleaming under the faint light, stepped forward and with a swift motion, grabbed K-low by the collar. He lifted the defeated warrior with a casual ease, his strength like an iron vice. The cult members stood in silent reverence, their heads bowed low, never daring to look upon the carnage.
K-low's eyes fluttered open, though his vision was blurry. His mouth parted in a silent gasp, his body refusing to respond. He couldn't even speak, the only thing he could do was stare up at the figure before him—his executioner. The right-hand man's helmet gleamed with an unholy light, his glowing eyes locked onto K-low with a chilling intensity.
"You failed," the right-hand man's voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of an entire world's destruction. "And now you will pay for it."
K-low's mouth moved, but no words came. His body was too battered, too broken to speak. A strange calmness began to settle over him as his thoughts turned inward, reflecting on the mistakes that led to this moment. The power of Akane had surpassed all expectations. He had underestimated the boy, and now he would never live to correct that error.
Without a word, the right-hand man casually threw K-low's limp form aside, sending the failed warrior's body crashing to the floor like a discarded ragdoll. There was no remorse in the gesture, only the cold efficiency of a machine carrying out its task.
The leader shifted in his throne, his cloak swirling around him as if it were alive. He regarded the scene before him with dispassionate detachment. "Failure is a luxury I cannot afford. But perhaps, K-low's death will serve as a reminder to the rest of you."
He turned his gaze to the cult members, his voice rising with the weight of authority. "There are no second chances. We move forward, or we die in the darkness."
His right-hand man, standing tall and imposing beside him, nodded in agreement. The room seemed to grow colder as the shadows deepened, and the cult members stood at attention, awaiting their next command.
"Now," the leader said, his voice echoing through the chamber like a final decree, "we focus on Akane. He is the key, but he is also our greatest threat. We will not rest until he is under our control. His power will be ours, or the world will burn."
As the words echoed through the chamber, the cult members, one by one, began to chant in unison. Their voices rose in a dark symphony, a song of devotion to the Oblivion Order's cause.
Outside the chamber, the echoes of their chant reverberated through the walls, carried on the winds of fate. The world had no idea what was coming, but soon, all would feel the weight of the shadows closing in.
To Be Continued…