Like it was building toward something greater, yet couldn't quite cross the final threshold. It wasn't about quantity anymore. He needed quality. A truly dense, powerful soul.
So he kept moving.
He blurred through the chaos, leaving a trail of broken bodies in his wake. Giants swung massive clubs at him, only for their weapons to be sliced in half mid-swing. Others tried to overwhelm him with numbers, but the Dreadwing Blade danced in a silent storm of death, severing limbs and opening throats before they could even react.
Finally, after cutting down the last of the immediate charging warriors, Sol turned and walked back toward the fallen Layer 3 sub-commander.
The moment he stood over the massive corpse, the Silver pool in his chest gave a massive, deafening roar that only he could hear.
He knew that it was the final, dense soul needed to break the threshold.
