The Philosopher's Stone inside the magic satellite reached maximum output. A green beam shot down from more than a thousand kilometers up, and the seawater was instantly erased in the green light, evaporating until a whirlpool soon formed.
At the bottom of the whirlpool stood a god.
Tyr roared, furious to the extreme, yet the green light was corroding his body like strong acid. In only a few moments, that ultimate power of death had stripped away great swaths of his flesh.
Hair, skin, muscle, even bone rapidly carbonized in the green light, melting his upper body into a skeleton.
It filled Tyr with terror.
"A mortal can actually wound the body of a god?"
Even with only a tenth or two of his strength remaining, his power still possessed an extremely high order, and this temporarily molded body was likewise filled with his divine power.
And gods were supposed to be immortal!
He had no choice but to raise the blood-red longsword in his hand, turning it into a square shield to protect himself beneath it. Only then did he slightly curb that terrifying damage, but even so, his body was still being suppressed by the power of the planet-destroying cannon, sinking continuously toward the seabed.
Tyr was incomparably furious and utterly stifled, but as the god of war, his battle instincts kept him stubbornly holding on.
Such a powerful attack could not possibly continue forever!
The enemy would surely need time to recover and catch their breath!
Indeed, just as he expected, under maximum output, the magic coils inside the satellite had already burned crimson. Coupled with the fact that it was about to leave the airspace it occupied, after a short ten seconds, the attack from the magic satellite had no choice but to stop temporarily.
But