Iver held the spear of light high in his hand, poised like a javelin thrower preparing to launch.
That brilliant golden radiance, dazzling as the blazing sun, continued to gather in his hand.
What was parasitizing Dancing Skirt was neither the complete Whisper of the Void nor the Pillar God of the Path of Void. At most, it could only be called a Child of Void.
—In the end, it was merely a derivative existence akin to an apostle.
Iver stared at the Child of Void pierced by the silver Moonlight Spear and hurled the Heavenly Light Spear in his hand.
The instant it left his hand, it completed a three-stage acceleration. The speed at which its rear extended matched the speed at which he had thrown it. That was why it seemed as though it had never left Iver's presence, with only its tip rapidly extending and transforming into an even thicker and more savage form.
Those dark-gold runes floated in the air, circling around the spear of light layer by layer.
There were three rings of runes. The farther back they were, the more runes there were, and the larger the rings they formed. It was like a segmented rocket: the foremost section was only as thick as an arm, the second was already as thick as a barrel, and the final section was as massive as a giant tree that several people could not encircle even by joining hands.
At that moment, Dancing Skirt had already broken free from the Silver Moon Spear.
Her chest and right arm had already been dissolved by the powers of the Blood Angel and Constant Self, leaving only her head. But for that very reason, the silver spear impaling her chest had also fallen away.
But at that moment, the Child