Brothers' War

One day later.

The semi-industrial underground chamber, once crammed with all manner of mechanical parts, had become an operating room filled with flesh and blood.

Countless pools of blood and chunks of flesh lay scattered throughout the underground chamber like scraps torn apart by brute force.

Most of those things had come from Mishra's subordinates.

Before Yogmoth,

the men who had originally guarded the area had possessed no ability to resist at all.

With effortless ease, they had become heaps of mangled flesh too gruesome to describe.

As for Mishra, the primary target,

he was now in an even more miserable state. Like a dried specimen, he hung silently from a rack.

His abdomen had been split open down the middle like an opened chest.

Most of his internal organs had long since vanished.

In their place, numerous finely crafted mechanical artifact components forcibly sustained Mishra's life.

His lips had been cut apart.

After enduring a long period of modification, he no longer even had the strength to scream.

Using the last of his strength, he could only ask weakly,

"Who exactly are you?"

Faced with this tedious question, one he was nearly sick of hearing,

Yogmoth casually sliced open the man's liver and embedded several tiny gear-like objects into the gaps between his blood vessels.

Only then did he answer indifferently,

"That Weak Stone you hold was able to come into being partly because of me. Who do you think I am?"

Upon hearing that,

Mishra, whose mind had already grown muddled, immediately had countless pieces of information flash through his head.

As someone who had risen to power through the Weak Stone,

Mishra had naturally conducted deep research into Sollan History.

He roughly knew some of the truth behind the destruction of that powerful race.

Among it all,