Several months later.
A mid-sized plane in the Spirit Race's Plane Cluster.
Beneath the gray-black sky, Benjamin's Triple Dharma Manifestation towered in the center of the wasteland, its immense body bathed in platinum flames. The ground beneath his feet had long since been shattered by relentless fighting.
Countless members of the Spirit Race surged in from every direction, their densely packed legions filling almost the entire wasteland.
At the forefront of that vast army, three exceptionally powerful figures hovered in midair: the Dark Realm Monarch, the Soul-Devouring Sacred Lord, and the Blood-Tentacle Tyrant. Above the legions, more than ten thousand Kings of the Sacred Spirits surrounded the area as well.
That terrifying army was like a tightening net, trapping Benjamin within it.
"Run! Why aren't you running anymore?"
The Blood-Tentacle Tyrant unleashed a psychic roar, its immense mental fluctuations sending ripples across even the sky.
All its blood-red tentacles unfurled, resembling a crimson cloud that blotted out the sky.
Its compound eyes remained fixed on Benjamin, its voice laden with suppressed fury and vicious delight. "Aren't you so good at escaping? Didn't you dare charge into our Plane Cluster alone? Today, let's see where you can run!"
The Dark Realm Monarch also gave a low laugh. "Invader from another world, your luck ends here. We mobilized our entire race to capture you. Do you have any idea how many worlds you've destroyed and how many of our people you've killed over this past year? Today, you will pay for all of it!"
Unlike the other two, the Soul-Devouring Sacred Lord did not roar, merely staring coldly at Benjamin. "We have completely sealed off the plane where you are now trapped. You have no reinforcements, no retreat, and all that remains of your legions is this battered force before us. How