"You're right," The Agent said calmly. "Who you are doesn't matter anymore. You're just an unfortunate anomaly—someone blessed with power that should never have existed. A disruption to the world's balance."
"So what?" Al shot back.
The Agent smiled faintly, though there was no warmth in it—only judgment.
"It means," he said, his voice echoing like a divine decree, "you were never meant to exist."
From his side, the black energy gathered once again—coalescing into a massive, spiraling spear of pure void, its tip aimed directly at Al's chest.
Al's eyes widened. He could feel the weight of death itself pressing against him. He tried to channel his energy, to fight back, but it was no use—the surrounding space seemed to crush his power, suppressing every spark of resistance.
"Damn it… what are you trying to do?" he muttered through clenched teeth.
The Agent raised a hand, his tone calm but final.
