Haru didn't register the man's words—his mind couldn't process anything before the sight before him. His anger had transcended reason, boiling over into a violent storm that left him paralysed as his eyes locked onto the broken form of his beloved Aki.
Logic told him that she wasn't real. That none of them were—neither his friend nor his Sensei. But what did that matter when his emotions were being manipulated to such an extreme? The anger had clouded his mind, leaving him lost in a haze of pure, unfiltered rage.
What lay before him was more than just a gruesome spectacle; it was a mockery, a twisted creation that the man dared to call 'art.' Aki's tortured figure was something Haru had never imagined in his darkest nightmares.