As the black mist gradually dispersed, the cloaked figure holding a scythe within it became increasingly clear.
When He fully appeared before them, they immediately noticed all manner of abnormalities about Him.
First was the cloak He wore. It was far from ordinary.
The fabric making up the cloak was formed from countless strands of black mist.
At the lowest edge of the mist, thick black vapor continuously dripped down, corroding deep pits into the ground like concentrated acid.
Besides the cloak, His scythe had also fully solidified. Hazy gray mist coiled around it, and the entire blade glowed a dark purple, covered in twisted runes.
As He lightly swung the scythe, the runes upon it subtly writhed, as though countless tiny souls were struggling within, letting out faint, shrill wails.
Kil was wrapped in black mist, his body bound by invisible chains. He could not move so much as a fingertip.
As he watched Death step out of the shadows, his pupils shrank to pinpoints in terror. The veins bulging at his temples had yet to subside, but all color vanished from his face in an instant, leaving only deathly pale despair.
"No, I haven't lost yet. I still have a chance to defeat him. You can't..."
His voice was hoarse as though scraped raw by sandpaper. With every word, a metallic, bloody taste welled up in his throat, but before he could finish, Death's icy gaze cut him off.
Death stopped before him. From the shadows beneath His hood, a pair of faintly glowing green eyes finally emerged. That gaze was like poison-tempered ice spikes, piercing straight into Kil's soul.
"Silence, ignorant insect. According to the terms of the contract, the price of failure—is that your soul belongs to Me."
Having said that, Death ignored Kil. He raised