Three of them stood there in borrowed restraint, their true power chained by the laws of the world. Ittorath did not count. He was already fading, his form unstable, his purpose nearly complete. He merely smiled as he looked down at the Ouroboros Coil in his hand.
Then he glared at Paimon.
"This seal… it seems you truly are a priestess of my god. Though you are not blessed with a stigmata."
Paimon did not hold his gaze. Her eyes were fixed on the three figures before them, standing without fear.
Their auras were so deep she could not even begin to comprehend them. The world itself was pressing down on them, forcing their power to the seventh class. Any more and the planet would shatter under their presence alone.
Zhang Dafei looked down at everyone with clear disdain.
"I had forgotten how low the spiritual energy of a lower world is. The filth in the air is just as I remember."
