The silence that followed the death of the Earth Dragon General, Aurion, was not merely a lack of sound; it was a physical weight that pressed down on every soul in the arena.
The obsidian floor, stained with the steaming, golden-hued blood of a peak Immortal King, served as a grim testament to the Sword General's efficiency.
In the VIP stands, the emperors of the primordial races sat frozen.
For millions of years, they had looked down upon the "lesser" biological races.
To them, humans were a blink in the eye of eternity, fragile, short-lived, and insignificant.
Yet, a human had just bisected one of the universe's sturdiest defenders with a single, unadorned swing of a blade.
The Earth Dragon Emperor's face was a mask of thunderous rage.
His knuckles were white as he gripped the arms of his mana-throne.
Beside him, the Spirit Emperor remained motionless, but the flickering light of his translucent form betrayed his inner agitation.
