Amonkhet Plane.
The scorching sun continued to shine down upon the desert, towering pyramids, and obelisks as it always had.
Countless mortals living here still prayed devoutly within the lies and Illusion Portfolios fabricated by Pharaoh Nicol Bolas. They trained desperately and accepted all manner of trials just to become members of the Immortal Legion and draw closer to perfection.
They had no idea that when the so-called Day of Promise arrived, this world would meet a terrifying destruction and end.
To Nicol Bolas, Amonkhet and the mortals and gods born here were merely disposable tools for seizing countless Planeswalker's Sparks.
Once that tool was activated, there would naturally be no reason for this plane to continue existing.
Moreover, he possessed a perverse sense of amusement. From the very beginning, he had told everyone how this world would end through brainwashing, prophecy, and suggestion.
The gods in particular had all been assigned their respective roles in advance and firmly believed those roles were the missions they had been entrusted with.
Thus, for thousands of years, everything had proceeded methodically according to the plan.
Like a director, this Elder Dragon Planeswalker quietly hid in the shadows and admired his own work. From the bottom of his heart, he longed to see the pain, despair, and disbelief on everyone's faces when the truth was finally revealed.
Without question, if tyrants were further categorized, Raymond undoubtedly belonged to the type who was ruthless toward enemies but relatively kind toward subjects loyal to him.
From a rational standpoint, he would minimize social resistance as much as possible to ensure the stability of his rule.
After all, he had once been one of those weak mortals himself. He could understand ordinary people's thoughts and retained at least a small measure of sympathy.
Nicol Bolas, however,