"Sacrifice?"
In the spiritual world, the grand silhouette of the Elf King paused slightly.
It was not that He couldn't understand this word.
Or rather, in fact, in His past, the journey from a mere creature of the Era of Chaos rising step by step to the summit was never without the underpinnings of this word.
Servants and attendants sacrificing for their lord.
Pawns sacrificing for the player.
The weak sacrificing for the strong, becoming the nourishment to grow stronger.
Always, He had stepped over corpses this way, ultimately ascending to that supreme Throne of Heaven.
However, such a process had always been a dedication from the weak to the strong, from the lower rank to the higher rank.
Yet, at this moment, Shiayar's actions were precisely contrary to what He understood.
Therefore, in an extremely brief moment, His thoughts showed a slight daze.
This pause was so fleeting that even under the strictest scrutiny, it seemed negligible.
