The marshland lay in eerie silence, thick with the scent of decay and damp earth. Wisps of fog coiled around the twisted roots and stagnant pools, clinging to the aftermath of Nioh's ascension. The air was charged with residual electricity, faint arcs of lightning still crackling across the damp ground where his power had flared to life. The embers of distant fires flickered weakly, their glow swallowed by the oppressive gloom.
The shadow that had been watching him for the past two months finally moved.
A shift in the air. A whisper of displaced mist.
And then—
"It seems you're more talented than I expected."
The sheer pressure behind the apparition dragged Nioh from his thoughts. His instincts screamed at him to move. He pivoted sharply, after tightening his stance.
Then he saw him. Grimmes.
The older man emerged from the darkness with the ease of a phantom, his expression remained unreadable as his piercing gaze measured him.
