The blast Charles unleashed had been so intense, so absolute, that aside from Mirror Immortal, more than half the alliance forces were annihilated in a flash of divine light and shadow. Craters still smoked where battleships once hovered; Primordial Beast corpses lay broken in scorched heaps. The air was heavy with ash ashes of men, beasts, and destruction.
High above, Mirror Immortal floated unscathed, but not untouched.
He looked down at the charred remnants of his sleeve, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then a soft smile curled across his lips.
"To think... a Sea Realm cultivator could even burn my clothes," he mused, almost fondly. "Everyone says the Kilvish Clan hasn't produced monsters since the Shadow Immortal… It seems they were all wrong."
On the ground, the surviving cultivators glanced around, expressions equal parts disbelief and relief.
"We… we survived," someone whispered.
