Deep in the Expanse, the marshland that once housed the Sin of Lust had transformed into a frozen wasteland. The waters were locked in ice, the skeletal trees stood lifeless, and the few creatures that had once roamed this land were long dead, leaving behind only brittle husks.
The air itself was deathly cold, an unnatural chill spreading across the barren landscape. Amidst this eerie desolation, a lone figure sat cross-legged, motionless, his gaze fixed on a single point at the center of the frozen lake.
"It should be any time now," Grimmes muttered impassively.
At the heart of the lake, encased in solid ice, was Nioh.
For nine months, his body had endured an unrelenting assault of hell energy. His mind teetered on the edge of collapse. Ever since that fateful night in the Knowledge Hall, he had been preparing for this moment. He had trained, meditated like a madman, and followed every method recorded in the Grimmes ancestor research—anything to survive what was to come.
