The moment the Myth of Oracle's final words faded, the towering throne of starlit obsidian erupted in radiance, as if lightning struck within a sealed heaven.
The next moment, space folded inward, the fog in the hall trembled, and then, he was there: the Coalition Master!
A colossal silhouette over a hundred meters tall, seated upon the throne as if he had never been absent. His form was still blurred, obscured, impossible to grasp, as if reality itself refused to define his outline. His presence distorted distance and bent perception.
Witnessing this imposing scene, the White Swordsman's pupils constricted as the obscure, mysterious, and untouchable sight was identical to what he remembered. But what unsettled him was not the appearance; it was the timing!
The Coalition Master had manifested instantly, without any warning, which could only mean one thing. He had always been here, listening and watching while weighing the White Swordsman and Myth of Oracle's conversation.
