The tunnel fell into a dead silence, heavier than stone, more suffocating than the blood-soaked air ahead.
Banen was the first to move, stepping back instinctively, his blade half-drawn. "Blan… you son of a—"
"Ah-ah," Blan interrupted smoothly, raising a blood-slicked finger. "Let's not ruin the moment with curses. You'll make it less poetic."
Serah's eyes flared crimson. The myst around her began to shimmer, threads of fiery energy crackling faintly along her fingertips as she gripped the hilt of her sword. "You betrayed us… for them?"
Blan chuckled, the sound far too casual for the scene he'd just painted. "No, Serah. I didn't betray you. I simply accepted a better vision. One where pain isn't a punishment... but an art."
Jack stepped forward, swords halfway unsheathed, fury etched on his face. "You're sick."
Blan turned to him with a lopsided grin. "And yet it took you this long to notice. Honestly, I expected better."
