Jealousy, coupled with his occasional fragmented dreams of ancient apocalypse, is further twisting Zhengmu Jingwu's thoughts.
"This is the tool to transform you into light."
Zhengmu Jingwu took the Spark Sword from Ayama's embrace, a sword with a wooden short hilt from Dyna's surrender at the bottom, holding it like a sacred relic, eyes full of longing.
"This is the power of light!"
"Mysterious light!"
Ayama wanted to struggle, but was locked by eight people, completely unable to move, and could only curse, "Even if you snatch the Spark Sword, you can't transform into Dyna."
"Dyna, that's the name of the Ultraman you transform into, right?" Zhengmu Jingwu put the Spark Sword in his pocket, sneering, "You are indeed special. After I learned you disappeared into the light, I spent great effort finding your genetic sample, but unfortunately didn't have the super ancient gene inherited..."
"But you turned into light!"
