In that very moment, the world of Sartre descended into absolute silence.
Shrouded by the Steel Strength mist, all sound waves were absorbed, leaving the most irritated and hoarse shrieks unable to spread more than a centimeter away. According to simple calculation, any being judged as a threat to others or themselves were chained, all mobility restrained.
Suppressed by the silver sky converted from the mass of the Sartrean moon, none could resist or move—the most devious of plots and conspiracies are now all meaningless, for beneath the subjugation of absolute power, ordinary beings could not even think.
As for what the Sartreans thought or desired, whether they wanted to be saved, whether they yearned for peace or war… None could care about any of those things. The warrior simply wanted to give them peace, and therefore they had to accept it.
