Silence blanketed the entire area.
No one moved. No one spoke.
They had all just witnessed a dragon erupt with the law-destroying power of the Dead Zone—something that, by every known logic and cosmic precedent, should have been utterly impossible.
And they had also watched as that same dragon's body disintegrated into dust, not through self-destruction, nor by any enemy attack, but by what could only have been some external force manipulating his existence.
During the final battle against the Destruction Supreme over 450 million years ago, the fabric of existence was torn apart, and the void of nothingness beyond existence bled in through the wound.
That void was the blank canvas upon which the "painting" of existence had been laid.
Though the wound eventually healed, the universe couldn't completely repair it and erase all traces of the breach.
