The leader's flesh writhed, horns extending into bone spires. Wings of black corrupted mist tore from his back.
He pointed a claw toward Apollo.
"You should never have appeared here, sword whelp. You carry a rule that threatens the Abyss itself. You must die."
His voice reverberated with the weight of a powerful abyssal rule.
And in the midst of this world-crushing pressure, Apollo remained standing.
The land beneath him cracked—because of the terrifying pressure.
He felt the abyssal leader's power that fully reached the peak of the half-step transcendent realm. It even felt like it could break the last barrier and reach the dream realm of true transcendence at any moment.
'So this is the half-step transcendent level… And a powerful one at that.'
His gaze sharpened, calm and icy.
The Eternal Sword Rule inside him stirred—slowly, like a sleeping giant turning in its slumber.
A faint hum brushed the air.
