The man was none other than Sunday. He had already changed out of his blue-and-white suit.
He now wore a white-and-black suit, with a blue ribbon draped around his neck. His easygoing air had faded, replaced by a touch of indifference.
Sunday looked at the bustling crowds of Spirit City and strolled straight down the street.
The passersby walked past him as though they had not seen him at all.
As he looked at these Soul Masters, Sunday was surprised. There was a reason the Spirit Hall Empire had achieved such swift victories in its early days. More than seventy percent of the elite were here; it would have been hard not to win.
He reached the entrance of the Papal Hall without obstruction, then stood atop the steps and looked down over Spirit City.
"Enter the Dream!"
As he spoke, Sunday waved a hand. An invisible ripple spread out from him across all of Spirit City. Wherever it passed, people collapsed to the ground, sinking into deep sleep.
Seated on the Papal Throne, Bibi Dong felt her heart lurch as a primal sense of danger surged through her.
Her gaze instantly sharpened. Nine Soul Rings appeared beneath her feet-yellow, yellow, purple, purple, black, black, black, black, red-and she raised her hand to strike at the doors.
"Who's there? Get out here before your Pope!"
The gilded doors shattered in an instant. Amid the thick smoke, Sunday stood quietly, looking back at Spirit City behind him.
At the sound of the doors shattering, he slowly turned around, his face utterly calm.
"A little slower than I expected."
As Bibi Dong looked at the man standing in the doorway, every inch of her skin tightened, and her eyes widened.
When masters crossed swords, victory or defeat could be clear in an