The moon hung in the sky, faint and blurred, like a reflection on the water's surface. It exuded an aura that was both terrifying and mysteriously beautiful.
The yellow-white moonlight illuminated a radius of over a hundred meters. Beyond this range, the surrounding area was shrouded in darkness—or, more precisely, walls of black clouds encircled the space, sealing it off.
Rakka looked up. There were no black clouds above, but the sky was veiled by a shimmering layer of light that rippled like water.
"Are you ready to die?" Ikarys said with a cold smile, his voice filled with murderous intent.
Rakka glanced at Ikarys. His eyes were neither fearful nor emotional.
Calm… unnervingly calm.
Rakka's gaze was like the surface of a still lake in autumn—tranquil yet unfathomably deep.
Ikarys felt a twinge of unease under Rakka's gaze.