The first rays of dawn poured through the damaged dome, cutting a boundary of light and shadow across the marble ruins.
Uryū Ishida leaned against a broken pillar, his body slowly sliding half an inch down its rough stone surface.
His white Star Cross uniform was already soaked in dark red blood, stone dust clinging to the edges of its hem, its weight suffocating.
He gasped for breath, each inhalation tugging at the gaping wound in his ribs.
Even as every bone in his body groaned beneath an unbearable burden, his gaze never left the blond man before him.
Haschwalth stood ten paces away, the dawn stretching his slender shadow far behind him.
On his handsome, impassive face, those eerie eyes, whose pupils had split into several overlapping layers, had completely merged back into their original clarity.
The divine vision belonging to Yhwach had receded.
The omnipresent, suffocating pressure of foresight that filled the air had vanished with the end of the night.
Behind his glasses, Uryū Ishida's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.
The authority of The Almighty no longer resided within Haschwalth.
Throughout their long battle, his opponent had known in advance every draw of his bow, every change of direction, even the rhythm of every breath he took.
That helplessness in the face of an omniscient god was enough to drive even the most resolute person to despair.
But things were different now.
Having lost the ability to see every branching future, the man before him had fallen back into the realm of mortal beings.
Although his opponent had regained his original Schrift ability, as long as he could no longer perceive the future, the battle was no longer an impenetrable iron wall.
His opportunity had finally arrived.
Uryū Ishida understood his current situation very well.
Even without foresight,