Shadow Stinger knew how ruthless the white cloud hovering above his head was. It indiscriminately drained life from everything around it, even its own master.
Nothing living could escape its grasp.
Unless...
Unless Night Owl, standing before him, was not alive.
Not only did Night Owl seem completely unaffected by the white cloud, he stepped forward, drawing closer to Shadow Stinger one step at a time.
To be precise, the cloud was no longer pure white. In just over ten seconds, it had turned gray-white and was slowly darkening toward a murky blue-black.
That was the result of its frenzied absorption of life force from the nearby spectators and its own host.
Night Owl walked straight up to Shadow Stinger.
Less than ten centimeters separated them.
Panic seized Shadow Stinger. First, he had no idea why his final killing move seemed to have no effect on Night Owl. Second, he did not know why Night Owl had come so close.
Then he raised his head. Through the openings in Night Owl's scratched black mask, Shadow Stinger saw his eyes clearly for the first time.
Within Night Owl's eye sockets were two pupils as black and deep as ink.
Shadow Stinger stared into them, and his gaze grew unfocused.
In Night Owl's pupils, he saw something beyond belief.
He stood on a white bridge paved with bleached bones. Beneath it, towering waves of blood roared in the bitter wind. Countless gleaming skulls, severed fingers, and other remains bobbed in the sea of blood. A sickening stench surged upward, startling the crows roosting along the shore.
The crows took flight with a rush of wings. Tens of thousands of them filled the sky, blotting out the sun like vast black clouds.
Far away, across the sea of blood at the end of