My father's most cherished weapon not only rivaled the Sacred Weapons, but also possessed the ability to create a separate space where he held absolute control over everything within it.
It was an incredible ability for taking control of a situation.
However, seeing how the rift was reacting, it could only mean one thing.
Father's control was slipping away.
"Brother."
I called out to him again.
I was about to say something when the very ground beneath our feet suddenly began to feel unreal.
It felt as though we were standing—
but not standing at the same time.
I couldn't help but grit my teeth.
The rift!
That strange illusion-like sensation disappeared.
Then it hit again.
Every few seconds, a deep rumbling echoed from above, like the sky itself was groaning under unbearable pressure.
I finally looked upward.
The tear had grown larger.
It looked as though something had dragged countless jagged branches across the heavens.
Like a wound.
A crack in reality itself.
