In fact, Dark Moon had existed for only the span of a breath.
By the time the cold curtain and everything within it had withered and shattered completely, it had already vanished without a trace.
This ultimate burst under Frostburn's effect was undoubtedly far more dreamlike and dazzling than the original, but no less vicious.
As the fog tide surged, the Castaways had already gathered densely around the plaza, forming what looked like a wall of flesh.
Roars, wails, sobs, even the cries of babies—every kind of eerie sound seized the soul.
Yet whether it was armor, chunks of flesh, or even Harriet charging up from behind, none could offer the slightest resistance to that terrifying cutting force.
A perfectly rounded, spherical inner wall had been forcibly etched out of that ring of flesh.
Among the mixed, flowing remains, not a single fragment larger than a fingernail could be found.
And Fu Qian, who had created this masterpiece, hadn't looked around even once. He'd gazed up at Dark Moon the entire time, until it vanished completely.
There had been no sound, no gaze, nothing at all, except the sense of its reflection among the stars.
The collaboration project, pushed to its absolute limit, had finally produced a result, though by any measure it was the worst possible one.
The stars worshipped by the Order were real, and Dark Moon had likewise been hidden within this reality.
He hadn't wandered into a nightmare. The thing he'd been searching for had simply withered away from this world completely.
Of course, some key details still needed corroboration from his partners.
That didn't take long, because along with the curtain's collapse, the space within its bounds had also begun to crumble.
Though there was nothing left, gray-white frost fissures were spreading wildly through