WHAT CAN BE DONE?

Present Time,

Acheron was surrounded by a hurricane he had created; it was tall and twirling around him rapidly, with a few golden pentagons at different parts of it.

She had sent a few pentagons at them, and they could not keep up with darting them as they were inadvertently killing others, and he had reverted to this method.

But it wouldn't last for long.

“You have to stop this stupidity.

Why can't you just give up?” Acheron shouted at his mother, his face and voice pleading.

“You ugly excuse for a child.

I will have your life and send you back to hell myself!" She fired, sending more golden pentagons at him.

“Now tell me, where is the joy in that?

It will be fun to bring mother and son along, won't it?" Shadow asked as he whirled around, creating a wind motion and causing the newly shot pentagons to follow after his movements.