The ruins of the forest were still burning.
Not with ordinary fire, but with the remnants of the power that had been released moments ago from the axe of the man called the Mountain Breaker.
A massive chasm stretched for kilometers into the earth, and molten rock bubbled up from the depths of the black cracks, while the sky above the area still trembled unstable, as if reality had not yet been able to rebuild itself from Walterk's strike.
But at the center of all that destruction, nothing had changed. Daniel stood calmly beneath the tree, his clothes not even torn.
His white hair swayed gently in the wind, and the light of the tree's half-ripe fruit reflected on his expressionless face.
The tree was also unharmed.
Its massive roots still pulsed in the ground, and the white and golden light of the fruit glowed calmly and steadily, as if the strike that could wipe an entire nation off the map had not even touched a single leaf.
