In the void, grotesque and mangled corpses drifted in silence. They floated aimlessly, some even clustering together to form small floating islands of death.
The Thorned Evil God surveyed the battlefield. Nearly a third of his retinue of followers had been decimated. Though he maintained a composed exterior, the loss stung. Cultivating such an army wasn't easy.
Still, he consoled himself. Holding the Evil God of Desolation at bay had been worth it. Yet, the issue was that the latter had fled—a desperate move that felt infuriatingly out of reach.
"You won't escape," the Thorned Evil God muttered. His voice, low and sinister, echoed through the void. He raised one of the tendrils he had used to strike the fleeing Evil God and gazed at the golden arcs of lightning flickering along its surface.
This lingering energy wasn't strong enough to harm him, but its inherent nature was terrifyingly oppressive. His flesh near the arcs was slowly withering, though his regenerative powers were sufficient to counteract the damage. Still, it was clear that the weapon's owner was a force to be reckoned with—powerful enough to send his prey fleeing in disgrace and granting him this opportunity for vengeance.
"Such unique power. Its owner must be of a different nature than us," he mused. Shrouded in black mist, his exact form remained obscured, though tendrils writhed and twisted at his base.
Despite the golden arcs still lingering on his tendril, the Thorned Evil God didn't rush to pursue the Evil God of Desolation. This prey was clearly marked by another powerful being. A direct pursuit could risk conflict, though there was always the possibility of forming an alliance. Yet, given the ferocity of the power within the golden lightning, collaboration seemed unlikely.
Abandoning the hunt, however, was not an option. The potential rewards from slaying another epic entity far outweighed the risks of conflict.
"At worst, I lose more minions," the Thorned Evil God muttered.
He left a contingent of his followers behind to scavenge the battlefield, not out of any sense of cleanliness, but because the corpses were a resource. Consuming them would allow him to regenerate his forces, recycling the remains to reduce his losses.
Once the task was set, the Thorned Evil God began following the faint connection to the golden arcs of lightning, leading him toward his prey.
The Evil God of Desolation had fled back to his origin world. Outside its boundaries, the Thorned Evil God lingered, his tendrils probing the surrounding void. His prey's presence had abruptly vanished, confirming that he had entered this world.
Both beings were world-destroyers, thriving on the annihilation of realms to grow stronger. They were universally rejected by worlds, save for their own origin worlds, which remained the sole sanctuaries for their kind.
If the Evil God's origin world was a great world, retreating here made sense—it was a fortress that few could breach. However, if it were anything less, such a retreat was both selfish and foolish.
"So, you're one of those rare anomalies born outside a great world," the Thorned Evil God murmured. He examined the medium-sized world before him. While it was among the best of its class, it was nowhere near the scale of a great world.
Though most world-destroyers hailed from great worlds, exceptions existed. Occasionally, powerful beings arose from smaller realms due to unique circumstances or sheer luck. Yet these beings lacked the safety net of a great world, making their origin worlds vulnerable to the repercussions of their actions in the void.
"Such selfishness. To drag your mother world into this," the Thorned Evil God sneered. He now held leverage. Even if he couldn't kill the Evil God of Desolation, he could use his origin world to extort him.
No being, no matter how powerful, was indifferent to their origin world. For world-destroyers, their mother worlds were sanctuaries where they could freely observe and manipulate the laws of existence. The destruction of such a world would not only sever their path to greater power but could effectively end their epic journey.
Inside the origin world, the Evil God of Desolation smirked at the Thorned Evil God's taunts. His tone was dripping with disdain.
"Selfish? Foolish? Hmph!" he scoffed.
His recent string of encounters defied explanation. What should have been a routine corruption of a minor world had led to clashes with two scions of terrifying lineages. Then, during his escape, he had run into an old adversary.
With such misfortune, continuing to flee into the void seemed even riskier than retreating home. Here, in his origin world, none of his enemies could breach his defenses.
Given enough time, he was confident. The two scions would eventually grow bored and leave, unwilling to waste time or summon their elders for such a trivial matter. As for the Thorned Evil God, once he had recovered and rebuilt his army, he could crush him if necessary.
For now, his plan was simple: endure.
Brilliant golden light suddenly pierced the void, weaving a resplendent pathway that led to the Evil God of Desolation's origin world. On this radiant path, two mighty figures strode side by side, their presence awe-inspiring.
Their gaze immediately fell upon the Thorned Evil God, still lingering at the world's periphery. His grotesque appearance and the destructive black mist that surrounded him identified him unmistakably as one of their kind.
Muria wasted no time. Drawing the Blade of Seven Sins, he slashed downward, golden light carving a furious arc. Beside him, Mikaela unsheathed her sword, its crimson blade tearing through the void with divine brilliance.
Caught between the powerful duo and his wounded prey, the Thorned Evil God froze, realizing that his hunt had just become exponentially more dangerous.
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