The golden thunder was like the most obedient servant.
It surrounded the silhouette, leaping and submitting, yet unable to harm it in the slightest.
The tattered garments flew silently in the thunderlight.
With each step taken, the scorched, cracked flesh ground beneath seemed unable to withstand the invisible pressure, slightly sinking.
The silhouette was somewhat blurred amidst the extreme halo.
The flesh ground beneath its feet transformed into a scorched-glaze-like substance at the moment it stepped.
Each step felt as if it were treading on everyone's heart.
Dozens of grandmasters, who had just survived a calamity and were still unsettled, now seemed as if they were under an Immobilization Spell.
The remaining excitement and confusion from surviving were instantly replaced by extreme horror.
Someone instinctively retreated, their back crashing heavily against the slick meat wall.
Someone's legs weakened, uncontrollably kneeling on the ground.
