Elsewhere, tens of thousands of light-years away.
The giant whale, speeding toward the vicinity of some old monster's lair, suddenly shuddered. A chill rose from its tail, shot through its hundreds of thousands of miles-long body, and went straight to its head.
The giant whale froze, and its two rows of eyeballs trembled uncontrollably.
As a Supreme Life, it might be cowardly, but its instincts were anything but dull. Especially after millions of years of cautious vigilance, its nose for danger had been honed to a frightening degree—calling it a divine ability would not have been an exaggeration.
This was danger. Enormous danger was drawing near.
The giant whale's eyes rolled around once, swiftly reaching a conclusion.
Sure enough, that aberrant little human had secretly followed it from behind.
Damn it. Rotten luck, rotten luck. Trouble, trouble.
There was a great deal written about that race in the giant whale's inherited laws. They were full of schemes, and their methods emerged one after another. Once they truly set their sights on you, things became exceedingly troublesome.
To that species, every part of its body was a treasure.
Alive, it could serve as a mount.
Dead, its entire body was prime material.
Had the Chaos Sea failed to work? Then again, that race was suspicious by nature and born vigilant. Such an obvious trap had never had high odds of succeeding.
As for the other party falling into the Chaos Sea and somehow escaping—
What a joke. How could that be possible?
That was the Chaos Sea, a place known as one from which there was no return. Once trapped within, it was a dead end for any lifeform.
Order inside was chaotic, laws did not exist, and once one drew near, it would immediately cling to them like sticky candy,