The world plunged into darkness.
The torches extinguished, the stars were hidden, and even the spiritual glow that once permeated the air now seemed to have been sucked into an invisible vacuum. It was like fighting inside the heart of an eclipse. The only light came from the cracks in the Guardian's mask—three vertical eyes of pure energy, pulsating with the will of a Lost Realm.
Scarlet spun in the air, the blood spear emerging from her own body, shaped from the scarlet plasma pouring from her outstretched arms. The weapon was alive, pulsing, vibrating with her rage. Beside her, Strax planted his feet into the ground and swung Artorias' sword, the straight blade humming with a frequency that cracked the stones beneath his feet.
The Guardian did not move. He didn't need to.
He simply EXISTED with such presence that the world around him adjusted to his being. But it wouldn't be enough. Not anymore.
"Let's get started, big guy," Scarlet grinned, the first to attack.
