The Multiverse Transmission Hall, a colossal structure and a marvel of the void, is vast enough to host an entire intelligent race with a fully functional ecological cycle, allowing for their survival and reproduction. However, even with its immense scale, it pales in comparison to the arrival of an entire medium-sized world.
The Multiverse Transmission Hall could, perhaps, be compared to this medium-sized world in terms of size, but when juxtaposed with the nearby world of Erathia, it becomes insignificant. From the Multiverse Transmission Hall, one could only look down and see the boundless barriers of the Erathia world.
"Stop staring! Help out!" shouted the fifth epic-level being to arrive at the Multiverse Transmission Hall. Looking at the others who had arrived before him, he quickly called for their assistance.
After all, the Multiverse Transmission Hall was a marvel jointly created by the three great races of epics. It bore their collective effort, and if it were to be damaged due to transporting a medium-sized world, it would not only be painful but also a loss of face.
With this one epic-level being taking responsibility and leading the charge, the other initially idle epics reluctantly stepped in. It was a small effort for them, after all.
The spatial vortex had already taken shape with the assistance of the Multiverse Transmission Hall, drawing on the free energy of the surrounding void. All they needed to do was stabilize and expand the vortex.
As more epics were drawn to the Multiverse Transmission Hall to investigate the anomaly, those who arrived later also joined in, stabilizing the vortex and assisting in the trans-dimensional transfer of a medium-sized world from another cluster of worlds.
Of course, this unusual activity attracted numerous spectators. Among them were a few human epics and epics of other races outside the three main ones. However, even when combined, their numbers were insignificant compared to any of the three great races: the Titans, the Seraphim, and the Dragons.
In fact, if the non-aligned epics united, they could pose a challenge to the Dragons, as the Dragons remained fragmented. However, due to their alliance with the Titans and Seraphim, the Dragon Kings reluctantly banded together. Without this union, no single Dragon King could stand on equal footing with the Titans or Seraphim. True strength dictated one's position at the table, and without it, no ally would extend an invitation.
Among the spectators were not only the rare epics of non-aligned races but also a significant number of deities. Most of the deities merely projected their divine power to observe from afar, with none appearing in person. Only a few, who considered themselves on good terms with the three great races, sent divine avatars to witness the unprecedented event.
The scene utterly terrified the Desolate Evil God, who was trapped in his mother world and unable to advance or retreat. In truth, he had already been frightened when Demes, Muria, and the others sealed and moved his mother world. Their confidence in their overwhelming power meant they openly discussed their plans without concern, leaving the Desolate Evil God as a reluctant eavesdropper.
When he overheard their casual discussion about packing him and his world to take back with them, he was initially filled with anger and frustration. However, this anger quickly gave way to abject terror.
The Desolate Evil God was deeply afraid because these beings had the audacity and ability to implement such a wild and audacious plan. The most terrifying type of madman is one who can turn their insane ideas into reality.
Attempts at resistance were futile. Even with the support of his mother world, the Desolate Evil God stood no chance. The four epics ensured he was completely subdued. No one among them intended to engage in a fair fight or adhere to some code of honor against this world-destroying deity. They acted decisively, setting up a temporary sealing array around his world to prevent any disruptions during transit.
Thus, the Desolate Evil God could only stew in his confinement, watching as the epics connected to a distant, unknown source of power, creating a massive spatial vortex. At this point, the Evil God had resigned himself to his fate. He began contemplating the torment he might face and tried to prepare mentally for the worst.
It wasn't cowardice or a lack of will to fight. The Desolate Evil God simply had no opportunity to resist. The overwhelming force surrounding him rendered any defiance meaningless. His captors treated him as if he didn't even exist, intent on relocating him along with his world.
Such audacity and disregard left the Desolate Evil God reeling. Who could endure such humiliation?
As he wallowed in despair, the spatial vortex solidified, linking to the distant, unknown world cluster. What the Desolate Evil God saw through the vortex shattered his resolve entirely.
An illusion? That was his initial thought, unwilling to believe what he saw. If it were real, he could already foresee the bleakness of his future—a darkness devoid of escape, filled with death and imprisonment. He clung to the hope that it was all a trick of the mind.
But no matter how he analyzed the scene, all evidence pointed to its authenticity. The rational part of his mind screamed that what he witnessed was real. The force capable of relocating his entire world and integrating it into an unknown cluster was truly terrifying.
"Why me? Who did I offend? What did I do to deserve this?" The Desolate Evil God lamented in despair, his voice echoing in the confines of his mother world. This grand spectacle was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and he would have preferred never to witness such a scene.
...
"Yes, it's an Evil God. I can sense it. There's an Evil God hiding in this world," declared an epic Titan standing in the Multiverse Transmission Hall. His eyes gleamed as he gazed at the world gradually emerging from the vortex. He could feel his weapon pulsing with excitement, eager to once again be bathed in the blood of an Evil God.
"So that's why Demes and Arudiba want to bring this world back. They probably couldn't breach it directly," another epic remarked, nodding in agreement with the Titan known for hunting Evil Gods. None doubted the Titan's expertise in such matters.
"But isn't it overkill to transport an entire world just for an Evil God? If it can't be killed, why not leave it alone? Why bring it back?" questioned a Seraphim, voicing skepticism. While he didn't see the act as dangerous to Erathia, he found it excessive.
"Bringing it back for slow and thorough punishment is no big deal, just a bit resource-intensive. I think it's worth it," replied another epic Titan, Akmond, the Lord of the Wilds, who had appeared in the Transmission Hall. Fully armored and wielding his bloodstained double-bladed axe, Akmond was ready for battle.
The Evil Gods were rare in the void, and finding a suitable one was even rarer. Often, they were either too strong or too weak. Akmond wasn't sure about this one's strength, but he figured it would be worth testing. Even if it turned out to be weak, a few swings of his axe would be enough to satisfy him.
With the combined efforts of the epics, the medium-sized world successfully descended outside Erathia, hovering above the Multiverse Transmission Hall. As the world stabilized, Akmond wasted no time. Ignoring Muria's presence, he tore apart the temporary seal surrounding the world, peered inside at the shadow of the trembling Evil God, and coldly declared:
"Will you come out on your own, or shall I cleave your world apart and drag you out myself?"
The Desolate Evil God remained silent. He felt utterly defeated. He hadn't done anything particularly outrageous, yet he had fallen into such dire straits.
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