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"What drives humanity's destruction? What drives humanity's wars? What drives humanity's conflicts? What else but me? Conquest—it all ends with me. My three siblings have always known it," Avenger spoke. His German accent gave way to a solemn voice that carried eternal magnificence. "I ride my white horse as the embodiment of humanity's purest form. I am the White Rider. You—a forgotten man whose spirit survives only through fiction and entertainment, whose power stems from admiration rather than deeds—tell me… what can you possibly offer me?"
Before the King of Conquest, Assassin felt as frail as a child. His knees trembled, his grip on the blade weakened, and he stood seconds from dropping it as he watched a red halo form above Conquest, a crimson crown forged from death and destruction.
In that moment, Assassin—no, Yasuke—fell silent. He gazed at his sword amid the blood and flames surrounding him. Powerless, yet at the same time… he knew this could not be the end.
