After their barrage of attacks fizzled into pathetic sparks and harmless smoke, the entire group of degenerates froze mid-motion under the Night Empress's sorrowful gaze.
Even these battle-hardened perverts, who spent centuries bullying the weak and backstabbing anyone stronger, felt their rotten fingers twist.
Bullying the weak was their favorite hobby, sure, but they had clashed with true power before. Still, none of them had ever grasped the fundamental abyss between someone who had transcended and someone who merely borrowed strength from reality.
There was no comparison.
One was reality itself, perpetual and eternal.
The other was just a filthy little thief trying to pickpocket the universe.
The Night Empress, her dual-colored eyes brimming with ancient grief, didn't spare a single thought for their fear. Her gaze swept across the millions of risen dead, many of whom had once been her own people.
