No sooner had Dillosro's words faded than a blood-red beam shot straight down from the horizon, carrying terrifying power of destruction and shattering space all along its path.
"Crimson Flame Bow!" Michael growled through clenched teeth. This power was more than familiar to him—it was carved into his very bones. Back at Light Holy Mountain, it had been an arrow like this that destroyed the Great Light Sword Array jointly deployed by him, Gabriel, and Raphael. In the end, Raphael had died, and the Light Holy Mountain they had painstakingly built over so many years had been utterly obliterated.
Now, with the same Great Light Sword Array facing another strike from the Crimson Flame Bow, what would the outcome be?
The beam was incredibly fast. Before Michael could even speak, it had already torn through the sky like lightning.
Yet when the three words "Crimson Flame Bow" left Michael's lips, the beam had still not reached the Great Light Sword Array.
On the "clock" of the Great Light Sword Array, the "hand" moved again, retreating by one tick.
Clearly, this action came after every other force had been unleashed, yet everyone felt as though it had arrived first despite being launched later.
As if the order of time itself had been reversed.
That was right—time.
Time was slowing down.
Just like the movement of that "hand," it was retreating.
Under the mystery of this "retreat," that arrow still had not reached them.
The clock hand moved again, advancing one tick.
The next second, the blood-red beam abruptly vanished.
Judging by the shattering and healing of space, it would be more accurate to say that it had flown backward.
Everything returned to normal. The several changes that had just occurred had taken place in scarcely more than a spark from flint.