The Darkborn Space did not contain much wealth, and before long, the players had looted it clean.
The lucky players filled an entire inventory space with resources. After exchanging their gains, they could obtain 50,000+ Sacrificial Power. Calling it getting rich in one go would not be an exaggeration.
The players who arrived late had no resources left to obtain, so they simply turned their attention to the space itself.
Using Pickaxes, weapons, and other tools, they hammered at the energy foundations that formed the space, entering demolition mode.
This sight left Darkshatter, who was still lying on the ground, dumbfounded.
Such behavior was no different from suicide.
As the structure of the space was destroyed, the entire Darkborn Space would collapse. When that happened, none of the Player Race members would escape. They would all die in the spatial turbulence.
But the Player Race members clearly had not realized this—or perhaps they simply did not care about the devastating price of their actions. They continued destroying the structure of the space frantically.
Boom!
The Darkborn Space suddenly shook. One corner of the space abruptly transformed into a black vortex, sucking in nearby players and grinding them to pieces.
The remaining players glanced over curiously before continuing to dig at the foundations.
"They've all gone mad!"
Realizing that staying here meant certain death, Darkshatter gritted his teeth and stood up.
Wave after wave of dizziness washed over him. He was like a drunkard, staggering toward the spatial passage outside the Darkborn Vault.
If he did not leave now, he would not be able to leave later even if he wanted to.
He knew that the Darkborn Space had been completely ruined by the Player Race.
This foolish, greedy group had utterly destroyed his plan to rise again. Everything was over.