Lilynette

The Menos Grande that could still move under the crushing spiritual pressure howled as they launched a final assault on the two werewolves already on the verge of collapse.

Compared to their companions, who were almost being suffocated to death by the spiritual pressure, they still retained the ability to act—but their limbs felt as heavy as if they were trapped in mud.

Though every Hollow bared its fangs and claws, unleashing all the tricks it had up its sleeve, in terms of speed, they were only slightly faster than a jog.

The two werewolves, their grave wounds still unhealed, had long since been exhausted beneath this spiritual pressure as heavy as the deep sea. They exchanged a silent glance. Behind their masks, their eyes gleamed with the resolve to face death without fear, and a trace of...