On the surface, between the two sides, one had black mist surging and spreading, while the other had white mist running wild. Centered around their respective Penetrating Gate strongholds, they spread in all directions.
Yet the actual situation was not like that.
On the Abyssal Devil Race's side, although the Abyss Cities were deployed at varying intervals, most had not left the abyssal demonic mist. The Devil Ancestors led countless Abyssal Demon Dragons and Abyssal Devil Race members in a vast tide against one Dimensional Esophagus Forgotten One stronghold after another. Before the formalized, powerful legions of a true War of Civilization, guided by the Abyssal Devil Race, no matter how strong those strongholds were, they were merely mantises trying to stop a chariot.
At most, they would add a few more Abyssal Demon Dragon corpses to this ancient, desolate, illusory world.
By nature, the Abyssal Devil Race never played schemes with hostile creatures. From beginning to end, they had never intended to engage in plots and stratagems with another civilization they had never met, nor had they tried to win over these neutral parties.
On the other side.
Unlike the abyssal demonic mist, which poured from the Penetrating Gates and expanded aimlessly in every direction while the Abyssal Devil Ancestor legions slaughtered ahead of it, this white mist resembled octopus tentacles. Rather than slowly spreading without direction, it charged directly toward one stronghold after another at astonishing speed.
The Dimensional Esophagus Forgotten Ones naturally knew that their final day of death was approaching. The Endless World was purging the impurities within its body so that the material world could operate more efficiently.
Yet when faced with the survival of life and death, the Forgotten Ones refused to be captured without a fight. Facing the overwhelming walls of white mist