In the Void, ugly and fierce remnants of broken corpses floated everywhere, with even clusters forming small, island-like heaps of bodies.
Thorned Evil God looked around at his Subordinate Army, which had shrunk by nearly one-third since the battle began. To say he felt no pain would be a lie; it wasn't easy for him to have nurtured so many minions.
He had retained the Desolate Evil God and didn't feel any pain about that; he even felt it was particularly worthwhile. But the problem was that the latter was too desperate and had slipped away.
"You can't escape."
The whisper of the Evil God echoed in the Void as he lifted a tentacle that had just attacked and hit the Desolate Evil God, then stared at the golden arcs jumping upon it.
He could feel the domineering nature contained within this faint force, as the limb that came into contact with the power was constantly being destroyed by it.
