Abyss Seventh Floor, between the thrones.
The atmosphere within the space surrounded by thirteen thrones was more oppressive than ever before.
The air itself seemed compressed into substance, and each breath carried the terrifying pressure within.
The central gray vortex was now completely still, as if it too was shaken by the monumental project at hand.
Maggs' body, formed of countless black threads, was currently separating countless hair-thin tendrils.
Each thread glimmered with different hues, representing the various ability fragments accumulated over the long years.
These threads wove an exceptionally intricate three-dimensional structure in the air, akin to a work of art beyond human comprehension.
"Progress status?"
Chai Ye's three faces simultaneously inquired, with a voice filled with tiredness hard to conceal.
For this project, he had been burning origin power for several months.
