The red haze of my rage did not recede. It intensified, painting the world in shades of blood and shadow. The last vestiges of Kai, the boy from Earth, were screaming in some distant, forgotten corner of my mind, but I couldn't hear him. All that remained was the monster, and the monster was hungry.
My brutality continued, a relentless, systematic purge of the filth that had infested this sacred, stolen ground. I moved through the remaining goblins not as a warrior, but as a force of nature, a walking apocalypse. My shadow blade was no longer a weapon of precision; it was a cleaver, a butcher's tool. I didn't just kill them. I gave them a death that nobody wants, a death that would be whispered in the darkest corners of this world for generations to come. I opened their skulls, their hands, their organs, my movements a blur of cold, detached fury.
And then, I called upon the Phoenix.
