The battle against the Dutchman and his wraith armada was all but over. It ended suddenly and without warning when Jet shattered the Soul of Kanakht from within and cut its master down with her Mist Blade.
At the moment, surrounded by cold mist in her ghostly form, she really did look like the Grim Reaper.
Continuing to pour all of his Will into stitching Nightwalker and his shadow back together, Sunny whistled quietly.
"She really is fine…"
Honestly, it felt great — for once, someone else had pulled off an unexpected and utterly unbelievable, borderline preposterous feat. Sunny was quite happy to be usurped.
'This strange mixture of disbelief and elation… is that how people feel when I'm around?'
Maybe it was.
"What are you mumbling about?"
