Intu ran.
He crushed space behind him with every step, folding distance and compressing the void so that each stride carried him thousands of kilometers. Blood still leaked from his mouth, his ribs were fractured, one lung frozen solid, and his Ancestor Eye destroyed—but none of that mattered.
Survival did.
He accelerated again and again, burning his remaining strength recklessly until, at last, he broke free from the cloaking field forged by the Power of Karma.
The distortion vanished.
The sky cleared.
Connection returned.
His consciousness reached outward toward the Eternal Soul Kingdom.
"The Red King—"
Those were the only words he managed to transmit.
A roar split the heavens behind him.
"Asura Form: Fourth Realm Gear!"
By the time Intu processed the words, it was already too late.
A palm landed squarely against his back.
There was no dramatic buildup. No drawn-out clash.
Just contact.
His spine shattered instantly.
