Noah's expression had grown heavy, his eyes carrying darkness that suggested he was imagining exactly what that existence would feel like.
Conscious. Aware. Powerful. And completely, utterly helpless as his own strength was used to fuel purposes he didn't choose.
It was a fate worse than death because death would at least be final.
His internal weavings ran in circles of calculation and fury.
So that's what happens if he crossed The Veil prematurely!
THE Dead Order just... wins. Immediately and completely.
No fight or negotiation.
The thought was sobering.
He'd faced dangers before. He'd battled beings whose power exceeded his. He'd survived situations that should have been fatal through combination of luck, skill, and absurd cheating.
But this?
"…"
This was encountering a being who operated on a Scale of Existence where his tricks didn't matter, where his power was irrelevant, where resistance itself was a concept that didn't apply.
