"My demise is nothing at all! This world will ultimately become the hunting ground of my God!"
"What a standard low-life speech, even facing death without a hint of artistry!"
Murphy quipped.
The gauntlet on his left hand opened, summoning the more ferocious and imposing Dark Night Claw adorned with blood-red runes as night fell. Enveloped in Omega Power, it pierced downwards, as if clutching the core of the Spiritual Body, causing it to dissipate into the ground of the material world in a frenzy of agony.
As that War Spirit perished, a vision appeared before Murphy.
In that fleeting moment, he seemed to cast his gaze into The Master of Hunting's Divine Kingdom. In that blood-red world, thousands of Hunting War Spirits crawled on the land of bones, chanting the name of The Master of Hunting, and at the end of the burning path ahead of them, upon the bone throne, a blood-forged Jackalope Giant Spirit reclined in an exceedingly casual posture.
