There was no earth-shattering boom, nor any upheaval of sky falling and earth rending.
Everything was so silent.
It was like a moist breeze blowing from a distant seashore, making the branches of trees sway, dust rising in the sunlight, then falling again, and clothes gradually revealing wet stains from the rain.
Everything was naturally subject to change.
Or rather, there was no longer the possibility of change...
The earth, sky, ruins, the crimson Sea of Spirit, even the shackled remnants of saints above the vault of heaven, all lost their color under the illumination of Flame Light.
Once all hues were stripped away, only a vast expanse of hollow pallor remained.
Beneath the cleaving of the sword's edge, burning wings turned to nothingness, myriad outstretched palms were erased inch by inch, and tears and empty eye sockets gradually blurred.
The first to disintegrate was the terrifying shadow from the distant Vortex.
