William recalled the visual horror of that storm with a clarity that made his skin crawl.
When he had first entered this world, he had narrowly intercepted a half-finished storm after taking down lots of gates; if not for his split-second reaction, Fang's presence in the right spot, and a massive stroke of luck, the gate linking his way back to his world would have been reduced to nothing.
But his perspective had shifted entirely the moment he recognised the Blue Purgators. The puzzle pieces didn't just fall into place; they slammed together.
In his past life, the history books of the upper realm were clear: the legendary Blue Purgators had vanished. Now he knew why. The Mystic Arts monsters, guided by the dirty schemes of that damned Fox, had succeeded in this very trap.
