Chapter 3: The Fool Vs Ashera Ibn Asad
His breath caught.
"No... no, this can’t be..."
He was trembling. His hands, his chest, his mind. His entire being refused to believe what he was seeing.
"Shit..."
He leaped. Barely landing, he assumed a fighting stance, on full alert.
"You are indeed powerful, General..."
The voice was strange. As if captured by a damaged device, distorted, jagged, dissonant.
The silhouette, facing away, stood straight, motionless. It was easily two meters tall. It wore a long white coat with silver trim. Its boots, also immaculate, barely sank into the ashes on the ground.
Under the coat, a smooth, composite armor of Entropian white. Its glow pulsed softly.
And its hair... a meter long, light and translucent. It reflected the colors of the world around it. It had no color of its own—it was made of singularity.
The silhouette turned slightly.