The void was silent.
But not peaceful.
Silence followed screams that had shattered layers of reality, that had annihilated suns, planets, and entire civilizations. The air… the very fabric of space… was thick with ash, blood, and remnants of broken divinity.
Corpses lay across what remained of shattered universes. Angelic wings were torn, halos shattered, divine cores extinguished. Demon bodies burned or crumbled, their dark blood staining galaxies like ink spilled across a canvas.
Where once life and cultivation thrived, only death and ruin remained.
Rank 3 angels hovered amidst the devastation, their eyes cold, radiance flickering like dying stars. Opposite them, Rank 3 demons moved with predatory grace, wings of shadow and claws that could rend galaxies, stepping over the bodies of their own kind as if nothing mattered.
And it didn't.
Hate lingered in the air. A lingering, thickened emotion that clung to everything, to every corpse, to every living survivor.
