Remirg Kryptos professed the words directed to him by Mr. Voice, once again, holding down the chain of the cryptic exchange of words.
The Warden didn't reflect any kind of audacity on his face. He remained as calm as ever. What did change were the flames which erupted much brighter and greener by the frontier of the hall they were residing inside of.
The answer to the Seventh Question had been given successfully, without a single discrepancy. Little did Remirg knew about the absence of the Sanctum in his heart, as he seemed to beckon again to the Warden to kindly proceed with the ritual, having complete faith to emerge victorious in this battle.
Mr. Voice however, slumped down motionless in his astral space, not even his fingers twitching the slightest millimeter. Only his dry astral lips seemed to show some signs of life, as he tried to fight back the fate of plausibility.
Seven consecutive strikes and he was not even a centimeter near to absolute death.
