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Half an Hour Later—

CRACK! The space tore open once more, this time dangerously close to the ground. The tear rippled like a wound in reality, raw and unstable. From its jagged edges, Robin stumbled out of the rift, his body barely responding to his commands as if it no longer belonged to him. His knees buckled the moment his feet touched solid earth, and he lurched forward, catching himself on his hands just before his face hit the ground. His fingers dug into the dirt, bloodied and shaking.

His eyes—wide open, refusing to blink—were no longer mere orbs of vision. They had become pools of pure crimson, like liquid blood swirling within his sockets. Every tear that escaped them wasn't made of water but a thin trickle of red that painted his cheeks.