'Faced with someone like Barton, who had fought his way out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood…'
'Compared to a "Slaughter Centurion" like him, whose experience, will, and killing techniques have all been honed to perfection, I'm still a long way off.'
After the brief silence Barton had caused, the conference room soon returned to a low hum of conversation.
The frequency of the white flashes began to decrease, and the seats were nearly full.
Just as the last of the attendees were arriving, at the head seat in the very front of the room,
a flash of white light, far more brilliant than any of the previous teleportation glows and carrying a searing heat, suddenly erupted.
The light faded, revealing a middle-aged man with a commanding presence, dressed in a silver robe, who appeared in the head seat.
He had meticulously combed, short silver hair, but what drew the most attention was the space between his eyebrows.
