Three days later, in the skeleton swamp on the Holy Mountain of Turan...
Countless Angels of Slaughter, which were as large as the bones of giant beasts, had been sleeping quietly for three thousand years in the swamp that was dyed crimson by blood.
Despite the complicated gears, bearings, drives, and coupling structures embedded in their cores under their rusted and cracked shells, the mysterious and complicated magic arrays were still blooming every few seconds, they were emitting an extremely determined light that represented the Angels of Slaughter's brains. Their control chip was not completely damaged, but it still symbolized the ocean of light that enveloped the planet. They would make the best and final judgment on all the creatures under the Holy Light.
However, it had been a long time since any creature within their scanning range was worthy of their "judgment."
