Raizen stared at Atman's face for a long second, waiting for it to change.
It didn't.
Atman remained in the exact same pose as before - feet planted, arms stretched outward, hands open as if he were holding the fog in place through sheer strength. Dark-blue smoke coiled around his forearms and wrists in slow spirals, and the darkness in the air still obeyed him, rolling and weaving in the same vast, muffled sea.
Only his eyes were closed.
And his breathing was… unsettling.
Slow. Shallow.
Raizen's stomach tightened.
"Okay" he whispered. "This is fine. It should be normal."
It wasn't.
Elin was gone into the sky with an Anathema in her hand. The knife in Raizen's sleeve was wrapped in red threads like a living signal. The fog covered ten kilometers of Ukai, swallowing bridges, wind and sound.
And Atman was standing here like a statue that had forgotten to stay awake.
Raizen took a cautious step closer.
"Atman?" he whispered.
No response.
