“Aukon, submit to your fate.” Logan leveled his longsword at him, his tone ice-cold.
Cassius flicked his whisk, and the Tai Chi diagram hovering above slowly descended with steady pressure.
The child shifted restlessly, brimming with fighting intent.
But just when everyone thought victory was already in their hands, Aukon suddenly curled his lips into a twisted smile—wild, cruel, and filled with a desperate resolve.
“Execute me? With just the likes of you?”
His hoarse laughter echoed through the ruined hall. His eyes slid toward Houtu, Dark Murky, and Aoki—each either sealed or gravely injured—greed and madness gleaming openly in his gaze. “To force me into using that technique… you should feel honored.”
Before anyone could react, Aukon threw his arms wide and began chanting. The eerie incantation didn’t sound like human speech—it felt ancient, sinister, and dragged straight from the depths of the underworld.
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