Low, distorted static mingled with the screech of grinding metal and chaotic energy spread into the void from its center. The sound was filled with a desire for Destruction, yet now, it also seemed to contain a sliver of incomprehensible confusion.
It was as though it resisted the scorching light's illumination and scrutiny, yet also as though something long forgotten deep within its cold core was being faintly drawn to—or stung by—that light.
"—Huh?"
Just then, the majestic, radiant colossus of the Seat of All Worlds suddenly spoke.
It was not a sound transmitted through vibrating air, but a voice of thought that directly shook space and echoed across the Mental Plane. It was like thunder weighing a thousand tons, yet possessed a strange clarity, every syllable as heavy as colliding mountains.
The colossus slightly turned its head, formed from condensed radiance.
Though it had no eyes, every observer could clearly feel an intangible yet almost tangible gaze—a gaze mixed with scrutiny, comparison, and undisguised disgust—sweeping over Iron Tomb's enormous, chaotic shell like a searchlight.
Then, that thunderous voice of thought rang out again, haltingly, yet with a judgment so blunt it was nearly rude:
"—All—Amphoreus—junk—"
"—Why—do—you—look—like—a bug—"
"—Fucking—disgusting—"
The Galactic Allied Forces: "..."
"—I'll—fucking—kill—you—"
The thunderous voice of thought fell silent. There was no warning, not even a moment of buildup.
The colossus's right arm, flowing with thirteen-colored brilliance, abruptly rose.
In the path swept by its arm, space was plowed open into a crack glittering with tiny starlight.
Then, its fist clenched.
At the leading edge of the fist, platinum-white light and starlight compressed inward. Thirteen colors boiled as though ignited, finally forming a solid crystalline gauntlet.
It slightly turned sideways, pivoting at the waist as it drew back its right fist.
That motion alone tugged at the