Within this newly forged arena, Rex's power condensed into a tangible pressure that made the very air groan. His gaze remained locked on Little Red, who was still catching her breath amidst the flowers and debris.
"So?" Rex's voice was quiet, yet it carried the weight of an avalanche. It was not a question but a demand for a final accounting. "What did you do to my brother? This is your first and last opportunity to answer. I will not repeat myself."
As he spoke, the space in front of him began to warp. Particles of silver light, sharp and cold, swirled from the atmosphere and from his own shimmering aura, weaving together in a complex, terrifying dance.
They forged a blade of impossible length and cruel design, his claymore, reborn and upgraded, its edge seeming to thirst for reality itself. With a final, resonant sound, the weapon fully materialized.
