Uh... so who exactly was this King Nokono Motong? Was he overacting?
Yu Lian's spiritual perception spread out like liquid mercury, quickly sensing the direction of the voice. In an instant, he sensed every living heartbeat inside the fortress.
The only fighting left in the entire fortress was at one location: the entrance to the military port.
Guards from all directions were converging on that sole passage. But the rebel alliance's assault team had long since disappeared, leaving behind only the life sign blocking the entrance.
It was an exceptionally familiar life sign, wavering like a candle in the wind, yet burning as fiercely as a raging fire.
It was Creel Belmont.
His aura grew heavier. His psionic fluctuations were erratic and faint, as if they could go out at any moment, yet an extraordinarily tenacious will had forcibly anchored them in place. And so, he burned.
What a contradictory, yet valiant fellow!
Yu Lian sighed. With another instantaneous shift, he appeared in the military port. Like a spectator to history, he looked down from above at Creel Belmont's final battle.
...Or rather, the battle of that so-called King Nokono Motong.
He saw the figure, his head and face hidden beneath a heraldry mech, swing the warhammer in his hands. It drew a silver arc, slicing through the air and even cleaving through the dimensional rift, striking the man concealed in the rippling space.
Blood sprayed from behind the ripples, and a wail echoed across the ceiling.
A figure clad in a pitch-black powersuit emerged in the blood, then flew backward like a kite with its string cut. It spun through the air several times before crashing heavily to the ground. After twitching a few times, it lay still.
It was clearly a psionic who'd been trying to launch a