Chapter 97
The night air hung thick with the metallic stench of blood and choking dust. Every breath scraped the lungs like shards of glass.
Kakarai circled high above the shattered ruins like a vengeful ghost unbound by mortal laws. His movements were wrong—twisted, unnatural, defying physics itself. Black hair streamed behind him like living smoke, writhing and coiling in the wind. His eyes were bottomless voids, empty pits that had witnessed every horror the world could offer and remembered each one with perfect, terrible clarity.
"Vos…"
The word slipped from his lips like a prayer soaked in venom, heavy with religious madness.
He no-clipped.
One moment he drifted in the air. The next, he materialized directly behind the Fifth Apostle, blade already descending with ravenous hunger. The edge tore into the elder's shoulder, not deep enough to sever the limb, but enough to rip a guttural grunt from the Apostle's throat and spray dark blood across the rubble.
