Rather, he observed it, welcomed it, let it fold itself into the grander scheme he had long since constructed. 〝⠀ You sense it, don’t you? The deviation, the subtle fracture between what 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 be and what 𝘪𝘴. ⠀〞➟
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His voice, smooth yet dispassionate, carried through the thickened air like a sharpened whisper, threading between the unseen strands of tension. He had no need for alarm—his presence alone dictated the flow of events, the very fabric of the battlefield bending to accommodate his existence. ➟
〝⠀Curious… you hesitate.⠀〞The notification, that feeble little warning, clung to the moment like a dying ember. Murderous intent? How quaint. As though intent alone could hope to measure significance. He exhaled, near-silent hum of amusement, as oppressive weight surrounding them did not subside. ➟
But rather, aligned. 〝⠀ Perhaps you were expecting something more… visceral. A force that thrashes, uncontained. But tell me, does the ocean roar before it drowns its victim? ⠀〞He stepped forward, not to advance—no, simply to remind. ➟
The shadows did not cling to him, for they knew better. The spiritual medium did not reject him, for rejection implied resistance, and resistance implied ʜᴏᴘᴇ. 〝⠀Ah, but 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆...⠀〞That was the first thing he had long since stripped from this equation.
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