Meanwhile—
Somewhere deep in a pocket of space far from the Nether Sea.
There was no sky. No ground.
Just endless void.
A tall, middle-aged man floated there. His head had the structure of an elephant's—heavy, alien, unmistakable. Across his skin ran ancient, intricate patterns. Each line pulsed with slow-releasing power, warping the space around him like heat haze made solid.
He didn't move.
Yet the entire expanse seemed to revolve around him.
"So," he said, voice low and unhurried, "you dispatched multiple armies, taking turns attacking."
He paused slightly.
"And you were driven back… by something from a low-tier Plane World?"
His gaze dropped forward.
Several Nexaris commanders lay kneeling there, pressed low.
Their bodies trembled.
No one dared lift their head.
"Master," one of them rasped, "that man controls the white lightning of the Infernal Abyss."
The words made space itself shiver.
