Taufik's body turns ashen, like a statue of forgotten divinity, with cracks along his skin glowing faintly with eerie white light, with a cloak almost resembling the mist of the underworld, moving unnaturally even without wind.
His eyes become void-like, with a dim silver glow inside, reflecting the abyss of nothingness.
His hair turns an ethereal silver, subtly shifting between solid and spectral as if fading from existence.
A presence that should not exist.
A figure wrapped in unraveling fate.
A Reaper Born from Concept.
The battlefield trembled, not from power, but from inevitability because what Taufik had just accepted was not strength.
It was the end of something. Of someone.
And Vassago, the one who saw all futures, did not see this.
The war was no longer just a battle. It was now a reckoning.
Aksara stumbled back, his grip on his Ninjato tightening as his instincts screamed at him.
