The silence that followed Kay's brutal mutilation stretched like a taut wire ready to snap. Arthur, Aziel, and Lara stood transfixed by the horror of their companion's fate, his armless form crumpled against the cracked wall like a discarded puppet. Dark blood continued to seep from his wounds, each drop marking the seconds of his fading life. The Ancient King stood amidst the carnage, his sun mask reflecting their shocked faces with cold indifference, as if the dismemberment of their ally was nothing more than swatting an annoying insect.
But it was precisely in this moment of despair that something fundamental shifted within the three remaining warriors. The sight of Kay's broken body didn't break their spirits—it ignited something deeper, something primal that had been waiting beneath the surface of their carefully controlled techniques and tactical formations.
