"Black Chancellor! That, that is..."
The only surviving Daughter of the Moon, relying on the resilient vitality and longevity of the Moon's progeny, was immune to this Instant Death Spell.
In extreme fear, she stared at the Old Lich in disbelief, letting out an indescribable shriek: "Sixth Power Level?!"
That was the exalted level only the Eternal Pope could reach!
It was the highest goal her "father" pursued all his life!
To reach this level undoubtedly meant one had become the King of the World—
But for some reason, the Old Lich seemed somewhat irritated upon hearing her exclamation.
"Dust from olden days... return to an age devoid of miracles."
He raised a finger, like a withered bone, and pointed lightly at the Daughter of the Moon with long silver-white hair.
No chanting was needed, and no runes appeared.
A flow of light, about the thickness of a willow branch, black with a green hue, struck the Daughter of the Moon in an instant without making any sound.
