To a mortal, five hours is a lazy afternoon. But for Sunny, trapped in the isolation, those five hours were a agonizing and glorious hours of reconstruction.
He had broken through not once, but twice. His mana core had expanded into a nebula of SS-Grade magic, dense enough to warp reality with a thought.
His physical form, refined by the fires of his own potential, had hardened into an SS-Grade vessel, a body capable of destroying stars.
He stepped out of the isolation realm, the air around him shimmering and distorting, unable to bear the sheer weight of his new existence.
But while the Emperor had been refining himself, his empire had not been idle.
The seeds of potential he had planted were blossoming into terrifying flowers of power.
In the heart of Veridia, two pillars of the empire had ascended.
The first was Thalorax. The King of the Dragonborn, having survived the brutal duel with his son and unlocked the Sovereign's Authority, had finally crossed the threshold.
