The Sacred Spirit Civilization was an extraordinarily prosperous civilization.
Tens of thousands of Kings of the Sacred Spirits occupied their own planes, each a ruler in their own right.
The planes they ruled were arranged in overlapping layers throughout the void, like the chambers of a hive, densely packed yet perfectly ordered.
Dense networks of energy conduits connected the planes, and transportation networks of every kind linked the entire Sacred Spirit World together.
Every King of the Sacred Spirits possessed their own palace, army, and subjects, wielding supreme authority within their territory.
But above these Kings of the Sacred Spirits stood even more powerful beings.
They were reverently known as the Three Great Monarchs: the Blood-Tentacle Tyrant, the Dark Realm Monarch, and the Soul-Devouring Sacred Lord.
Each commanded thousands of Kings of the Sacred Spirits. They were the true rulers of the entire Sacred Spirit Civilization.
"Aah!"
The King of Spreading Fear jolted awake from a nightmare.
His palace stood deep within the core of a dark purple planet, surrounded by thick walls of biological carapace.
The instant he woke, his tentacles curled sharply, launching him off his bed as his compound eyes frantically scanned his surroundings.
Only when he saw nothing, with nothing but his own presence echoing through the palace, did he breathe a sigh of relief.
He lowered his gaze to his tentacles.
All the tentacles severed back then had regenerated. Their new carapaces were slightly paler than the old ones, and they were still somewhat sluggish, but at least he looked whole again.
Yet he still could not forget that horrifying scene.
That humanoid creature in a black Wizard Robe had looked exactly like the humans of the passage world-the Jack Plane. The level of life he sensed from that creature had clearly been so weak...