The Guardian's stiffness lasted for roughly three or four breaths.
In that brief silence, the only sound in the ice cavern was the faint cracking of the black ice on the dome, caused by the earlier violent impact of energy.
Zong Shen's chaotic divine power surged within him as his gaze locked onto the towering suit of armor before him.
He did not continue his attack, merely maintaining a vigilant stance, poised to strike at any moment.
At the same time, he connected more of his focus to the warm resonance emanating from the Eternal Sleep Flute, attempting to convey clearer, firmer intent through that invisible bridge.
The deep hum from within the armor gradually weakened until it fell silent.
The soul fire that had violently flickered, interwoven with ghostly blue and dark red, slowly stabilized as well.
Yet it was no longer the purely icy, murderous blue it had been before.
At the core of that soul fire, a small clump of dark red had already solidified, like coagulated blood.
It was as though a heart that beat slowly had taken shape.
The Guardian did not raise that door-sized greatblade again.
Its head, covered in thick fur trim and damaged plate armor, turned by the slightest angle.
It seemed to look once more toward the staircase entrance.
Or perhaps it had pierced through time to gaze upon a past that no longer existed.
"...The King's... flute..."
The broken, hoarse mental voice echoed through the chamber like a badly worn gramophone record.
This time, most of the hostility and killing intent within it had faded.
In their place were profound confusion and remembrance, along with an exceedingly faint anticipation that was almost imperceptible.
"The Eternal Sleep Flute."
Zong Shen responded mentally.
He raised the short flute in his hand slightly,