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The Butcher instantly recognized the voice of the God King of Death. He dropped to his knees, and his bathrobe shimmered and transformed into armor streaked with dried blood.
“I greet the God King of Death,” the Butcher said.
“Hmph.” The God King of Death snorted.
Without warning, an invisible force struck the Butcher, hurling him hundreds of meters. He coughed up blood, and even his God armor shattered under the impact. Pain coursed through him, yet he did not rage. Instead, he endured, forcing himself back onto his knees. “Thank you, God King of Death, for sparing...
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