Within the tavern castle, a gravely injured Magma Lion weakly looked up into the sky. He had survived, barely, not because of any strength of his own, but because of the enchantments the Condottiere had put on them, making it exceptionally hard for them to die - beyond what should normally be possible.
Within his chest was a glass orb, cracked as if it was ready to fall apart at the slightest gust of wind. Within that orb were the rest of the mercenaries, frozen solid in a state of protected stasis.
Even then, the price they would pay for this survival was not small. That is, if they lived long enough to pay it to begin with.
The self-destruction of so many Heaven Immortals was bound to be devastating, and it was only made worse by the fact that the Gon had gone all out to develop special techniques to ensure maximum damage whenever they self-destructed. After all, this was standard practice among their slave armies.
