The Water God wanted to speak, but his throat had gone dry. He couldn't get a word out.
He supported the weakened Senior Brother En-En as the two of them stumbled half a step back and closed ranks with the other three.
The five shifted from an offensive formation to a defensive one.
Click. Click.
Countless bones suspended in midair began to fly and fit themselves together, wreathed in ghostly green flames.
Bone joined bone without a gap, each connection snapping crisply into place.
Before their eyes, countless white bones piled together to form a vast, intricate throne steeped in the aura of the dead.
A canopy of interlocking giant-beast ribs arched over the throne.
When the last finger bone slotted into the backrest, the Pale Throne crashed down in the center of the cavern.
The ground shook.
No one sat on the throne.
Yet an immense pressure radiated from it, as though it had lain dormant for untold ages. Even the collapsing Demiplane temporarily stabilized.
"Thirteen thousand years..."
"That noisy girl has finally shut up."
This time, the ancient voice came from the throne itself.
"You have done well."
Sword Master in the Snow forced down the blood surging in his chest and tightened his grip on the Blade Hilt.
"What are you?"
His voice was hoarse, his fighting spirit still burning beneath a heavy edge of caution.
"What am I?"
The pressure from the throne suddenly bore down harder.
Sword Master in the Snow grunted. It felt as though an invisible mountain had settled on his shoulders, and his knees buckled against his will.
Only by bracing himself with his long blade did he manage to stay upright.
"Young man, show some respect for ancient beings."
Dawn moved.
He did not attack. He retreated with startling speed, putting