The spear of pure, razor-sharp divine energy—condensed from the essence of death itself—pierced through the air, aimed unerringly at Al's heart.
The world froze.
Time itself seemed to hold its breath. The air thickened, and reality bent under the suffocating weight of the black energy swirling like a vortex of death around him.
Each inhalation burned—cold needles of air stabbing deep into his lungs, turning every breath into agony.
"This is a cleansing… a purification for the cursed stain that is you."
The voice reverberated from all directions, neither loud nor soft—an omnipresent, dreadful tone that didn't come from a mouth but from the hollow fabric of existence itself. It was the voice of judgment.
Al couldn't even react.
His body refused to move—frozen, locked in place by an invisible force that crushed his bones from within.
What should I do?! My energy… it's not flowing! Damn it—am I really going to die here?!
