Above the ruins of Anvil Base, the spatial rift opened by the Spirit Race's power stretched across the clouds like a torn wound.
After a brief period of charging, the Spirit Race's Teleportation Array was finally complete, and a mass of tentacles a size smaller than the previous one slowly squeezed out of the rift.
The instant he emerged, the entire continent felt that terrifying pressure!
The sky seemed to change color. An invisible force pushed the clouds aside, forming a vast hollow centered on the tentacles.
The alien creatures on the wasteland flattened themselves against the ground, not even daring to raise their heads.
Without a doubt, although this member of the Spirit Race was slightly smaller, he was a genuine Level 8 Lifeform!
The mass of tentacles paused in midair. After finding no threats, several compound eyes peeked out through the gaps between his tentacles and cautiously surveyed his surroundings.
His posture was plainly wary, ready to respond to any attack.
After a meticulous search, he found nothing anywhere in the wasteland.
The tense mass of tentacles relaxed, and he emitted a low psychic resonance, as though
he had breathed a sigh of relief. "No movement after all this time. Looks like he's dead. That troublesome fellow finally had his life dragged out of him!"
Realizing that humanity's strongest, the man who could threaten and kill him, might already be dead, he unfurled his tightly bunched tentacles with an air of looking down upon all beneath the heavens. "It seems this world will ultimately fall into the hands of a king such as myself!"
As he spoke, his compound eyes swiveled. The King of the Sacred Spirits' gaze easily crossed thousands of miles, locking onto faint spatial fluctuations coming from an underground chamber somewhere to the northwest.
Soon,