Ssssss.
The sound was like meat dropping onto a white-hot skillet.
The colossal wall of Absolute Midnight, erected by the true 9th-Order might of Ancestor, was dissolving. It wasn't being attacked by a spell or a weapon. It was simply ceasing to exist in the presence of Azazel's Red Aura.
Through the thinning barrier of perfect darkness, the Heavenly Demon Lord's projection laughed—a soft, cultured sound that rattled the bedrock of the Abyss.
"You delay the inevitable, old shadow," Azazel's voice vibrated directly through their minds, bypassing all physical senses. "I am the end of all things. You cannot build a wall to keepme out."
Damien gritted his teeth. His newly forged 8th-Order Eclipse Core screamed in protest as he fought just to keep his internal organs from liquefying under the ambient pressure. He gripped the Pantheon Sword, his mind racing through every item, every skill, every miracle he had ever seen in the shop.
