The Stone Saint hesitated.
The Spirit of Doubt was kneeling on the shattered ground in front of him, its black wings broken and torn. The eerie moth was great and terrible… however, so was the Stone Saint. He was the Jade Titan, and the Mantle of the Underworld lay heavy on his shoulders. If he wanted to kill the Cursed creature, the only choice it had was to die.
Even now, the Puppeteer was only keeping itself alive by slowing down the flow of time to such a crawl that it seemed to stand still. But interfering with an absolute law to this degree was an unbearable burden even for a being like the eerie moth… it would not be able to hold time still for very long, let alone indefinitely.
So, if the Stone Saint wanted to kill the Spirit of Doubt, he could.
But did he want to?
Why would he, indeed?
The Stone Saint looked at the giant moth coldly, feeling a strange compulsion to answer its question honestly.
