W-What the hell?” 0

Ashad Khan stumbled backward, his jaw slack. His eyes widened as he watched Kwon Oh-Jin's wounds recover and regenerate in an instant—like a video playing in reverse.0

“Th-This is impossible!” Ashad Khan yelled in disbelief.0

This can't be real. It shouldn’t be! It was supposed to be over…0

“How can you just get back up like that?!” he cried out, his voice filled with despair.0

Kwon Oh-Jin walked toward Ashad Khan, chuckling. “Pfftt! If the mid-level boss can have a second phase, so can I, don’t you think?”1

His spear and wire shooter had been destroyed in the battle, but the Stigma of Lyra on his chest burned fiercely.0

Crackle!0

Ashad Khan scowled. “Damn it…!”0

He summoned another storm of black feathers around him, which caused him to convulse violently and scream in agony.0

“Aaah! Arrghhh!”0

Crack! Crunch!0

Sickening sounds of distorting bones rang through the air. 0

Ashad Khan's firm, bronze skin shriveled as grotesque veins bulged beneath. His face was etched with deep wrinkles. 0

His back hunched and the muscles on his limbs withered away, leaving him skeletal. He looked like he had aged twenty—no, thirty years in the blink of an eye.0

Kwon Oh-Jin squinted. What’s going on?0

The power of one’s Stigma alone couldn’t cause such rapid degeneration—unless...0