'Kneel?'
If it were another soul standing here right now.
A soul who knew how to read the room, who understood the wisdom of being flexible, would certainly kneel.
They'd kneel spectacularly, with fear and reverence, with tears of gratitude.
As long as it meant surviving the current crisis, who cared about dignity?
What was a backbone worth?
All that mattered was survival.
But Murphy wasn't that kind of person.
He never had been.
His sense of self, the very anchor of his being, was not built that way.
So, the instant Leonardo's voice fell—he struck.
A crimson blade of light erupted from within, engulfing his entire being.
His flesh, his bones, his will, his soul—everything condensed in that one instant into a three-foot-long longsword.
It became the purest, sharpest, most desperate all-or-nothing strike.
[Seeker, drifting through the mortal coil, destiny has Manifested two vastly different paths to the heavens before you.]
