Just as Hades finished speaking, a deafening rumble echoed through the air, shaking the very foundation of the mountain. The ground quivered beneath his feet, and he turned his gaze towards the source of the commotion.
Above the crumbling mountain, a figure emerged, their vibrant blue hair flowing in the wind. The aura surrounding the person seemed slightly unstable, adding an air of unpredictability to their presence.
Hades couldn't help but recognise that person.
"There is one," Hades murmured under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he glanced in the direction that Poseidon was looking.
His gaze landed on a figure standing on the opposite side of the mountain range.
There stood Arthur, his once-pristine clothes now stained with his own blood. Despite the wounds, his eyes still burned with an unwavering fighting spirit, his grip firm on the sword in his hands.