The area ravaged by the Plasma Jet was filled with the pungent stench of burning and the sickening smell of blood.
The surroundings were a complete mess. The ground had been scorched black by the intense heat, and shattered rocks lay scattered everywhere.
At last, amid the rolling heatwaves and the plasma glow that had yet to fade, Connors charged out of the terrifying jet through sheer Life Force.
Connors looked utterly miserable, like a demon that had crawled out of the depths of Hell.
His body was covered in severe scars. His once smooth, resilient skin had become pitted and uneven, as if it had been densely struck by countless high-speed bullets.
Every burn mark looked as though it had been brutally seared into him with a branding iron, its edges curled and its color a horrifying dark brown.
Even more shocking, the dorsal fin on his back had been directly burned away by the jet.
Those once sharp, intimidating Dorsal Fins had been reduced to incomplete fragments hanging from his body. They swayed slightly with Connors's movements, as though recounting the brutal battle he had just endured.
The foul-smelling blood had not even had time to spurt from his wounds before the scorching jet instantly evaporated it, leaving only dried bloodstains intertwined with the surrounding scars, making him look especially ferocious.
A pungent odor filled the air—a mixture of burned flesh, hair, and evaporated blood that made anyone who smelled it want to vomit.
Connors roared furiously. His eyes had turned bloodshot, burning with blazing fire, filled with hatred and unwillingness.
He twisted his enormous body wildly and looked around, trying to find the source of the attack.
Every movement stirred the surrounding air, creating chaotic currents.
When he saw the faint glimmer in the sky, he seemed