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With a flash of light, tens of thousands of ashen angels materialized around the Itarim, blocking Suho’s path. They were the ultimate shield, forged by divine will. Suho did not stop.
“Move aside!”
Now, nothing could stand in Suho’s way—not the angels’ holy armor, their bodies, or even their souls. Not even Devour World could stop him. The Ragnarok consumed all. With every swing, thousands of angels burst into fragments of glowing light, and with every second strike, even the space they had stood in was torn apart. All the energy drawn from them flowed into his shadow, the shadow of the dead World Tree.
“Hahaha! So this is the fire of destruction you’ve created! Well done!” Antares’ wild, gleeful laughter echoed in Suho’s mind.
As if in response, Suho swung harder, continuing his charge toward the Itarim.
“Heh.”
The Itarim, watching, let out a sound almost like elation. To them, the sight of their creations being shredded before their eyes resembled a magnificent work of art.
“Let us play,” the Itarim said, and opened both hands.
The fragments of the collapsing dimension and the shattered cores of ruined planets were drawn into their grasp. Divine power crushed them and melded them, forging a resplendent cosmic armor...
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