Kwanchai stands motionless, his hands squeezing the swords at either hip tightly. Take it, do not take it, destroy it: none of the options mattered to him. The whispers of his master's teachings raises the hair on his neck, and he knew that danger was imminent. The Scorpion scans the room slowly as the other heroes debated their next move, eyeing each of the bodies in crystal stasis.

It is practically a tomb...

"It's practically..." The samurai starts, but trails off. Observations like that were pointless, what did it matter if those before him had failed? He would not.