In the crimson red hall now littered with nothing but cracks rippling with waves of destruction all around.
There were two figures within, one on his knees, his eyes closed, head low, and another who stood before him.
Ice gathered over Ryuk's hand, the last vestige of mana he had left soon forming a cold ice sword, oozing with icy sharpness.
He readied his hands, preparing to slice off the head of the Warrior.
But then, as he raised his hand, it got stuck in place, and that for a time so long, the Warrior raised his gaze to Ryuk, finding his hands twitching above him, with the cold dagger yet refusing to move.
It was a sight that he couldn't understand, and it got even more bizarre when he watched Ryuk lower his hands down.
"I don't understand," Ryuk muttered beneath his breath, as the Warrior's gaze filled with confusion, as if asking:
What do you not understand?
