Immediately afterward, beneath the radiance of the Metallic Flame in his hand, every one of the newborn robot legions that filled sky and earth split off a wisp of metallic light, converging upon Optimus Prime, the Metal Destroyer.
"Heh heh heh heh, Seven-Ring wizard freak, use whatever tricks you have!"
As he spoke, Optimus Prime, the Metal Destroyer, actually turned his gaze toward a Space Fortress slowly being moved farther away under the direction of numerous wizards—a Space Fortress thirty thousand meters in diameter!
The blazing Metallic Flame in his palm had no temperature, no energy properties, yet it seemed to represent the ultimate wellspring of metallic vitality, endless and ever-renewing. Amid Optimus Prime's proud, booming laughter at the dazzling civilization he had created for the Metal Destroyer, his other dark palm plucked at the Metallic Flame for the sixth time. Just as before, it separated only an utterly negligible fraction—not even one percent!
"No!"
As though he had already sensed something, the controller of this Space Fortress, already far from the central battlefield, was a Rank Four Stigmata Wizard.
His spotless white wizard robe was immaculate, and his wise, learned eyes were filled with the vicissitudes of age. Yet now, from his white-bearded mouth came a hysterical roar of terror.
A distance that seemed remote to a Stigmata Wizard was no distance at all to a True Spirit Ruler, so long as it lay within the bounds of this battlefield!
What did it matter if it had moved several hundred thousand, even several million meters away?
A streak of silvery-white metallic light shot forth with astonishing speed. This Stigmata Wizard had long witnessed the dreadful fate of the first five Space Fortresses shrouded by the source light of the Metallic Flame. Terrified beyond measure, he disregarded his own safety.