Meanwhile, the dying wail of the Ruler pierced everyone's eardrums.
Countless viscous nightmares frantically pierced out in every direction, like a display of ferrofluid reacting to a magnet.
But the moment those sharp spikes solidified, they began to turn grayish-white from their tips, fragmenting inch by inch and crumbling into ash.
Only the central, viscous mass of nightmare continued to wriggle, attempting to escape from between the roots.
Death had already arrived.
The Rotting Dream was about to be completely devoured by the inverted giant tree.
Everyone could imagine the gurgling sound of a drink being drained by a straw, echoing joyfully inside a cup.
Among the countless withered branches of the Remaining Evils of the World, cheerful baby laughter burst forth. They felt nourished and happy, expressing gratitude to their mothers.
In that instant, unknowingly, the last part of the enormous inverted tree had left the edge of the Mirror World.
