There was no sound, no light, no energy fluctuation.
The cold vacuum was like an enormous sheet of black velvet, swallowing every trace of clamor.
Only that minute, almost imperceptible trace of color detached from the giant statue's fist, like drifting stardust, and silently sank into Iron Tomb's cold, collapsing shell.
The metallic sheen flowing across that colossal thing's surface seemed to freeze at that moment.
Time seemed to have been stretched by an invisible force, coming to a halt for an instant.
Even the dust from the shattered stellar rings in the distance hung motionless, forming a fleeting frozen frame.
The next moment—
Iron Tomb's planet-sized remnant began silently turning into the finest gray-white dust from its very core.
The process was so smooth that it made one's heart tremble.
There was no explosion, no light. It was like a castle built from sand, brushed by a breeze and quietly scattering from the bottom up.
Its cold, hard outline, along with the intricate tangle of internal conduits and flickering broken runes, all turned into uniform gray-white powder.
Like a pencil drawing gently erased with an eraser, it vanished cleanly into the depths of space without leaving the slightest trace.
Only the fragments and smaller wreckage once bound by its gravity remained. Having lost their anchor, they began slowly drifting apart.
Along with its cold will, once filled with hatred and sweeping across the galaxy, it returned to Eternity.
The giant statue slowly drew back its fist, its movement carrying an indescribable sluggishness, as though it had expended tremendous strength.
The radiance flowing around its body gradually stabilized, though it seemed slightly dimmer.
Its face, outlined in starlight, silently gazed at the empty region of space left behind by Iron Tomb's disappearance.
A moment later, its head, formed from dazzling