Civilizational Overmatch

Whoosh.

The 15-centimeter-long flying device wandered through Night's Veil Land.

Like the shadow of the Reaper, it followed the tides of faith, tracked the coordinates of the Law Power's source, and used them as its center to unleash a great cataclysm, driving the creatures of Night's Veil Land to extinction.

The Black Death Clan members inside the flying device naturally couldn't feel the fear deep in the hearts of the creatures awaiting death. They had long since lost interest in trying.

After such a long time spent destroying worlds, the frequent destruction of worlds during the journey of this "spaceship" had become nothing more than a job to them.

And like any job, no matter how noble the purpose or exciting the process, given enough time, it would inevitably become dull and tedious.

Even if that job was sacred to them: protecting the Black Death World from invasion and destruction.

"I hate this red."

Inside the flying device, one Black Death Clan member passed by another, who was gazing out the porthole at the endless dark-red mist. They communicated mentally.

The Black Death Clan had no names.

They identified one another by the characteristics of their mental waves.

But since this Black Death Clan member's job was to supply food to the passengers aboard the flying device, we'll call him the Gatherer for now.

In response to the Gatherer's complaint, the Observer replied calmly, "But aren't our cities all this color?"

"No!"

The Gatherer disagreed. "It's not the same shade. Our red is a bright, vivid red, full of life. This red is oppressive and dark—the same dark red as that Metal Raiders world."

As if remembering something, the Observer replied, "There were so many metal bugs. It was terrifying."

The "metal bugs" the Observer referred to were the Cataclysm