Across the planes, throughout the Material World.
Every believer and subject of the Lord of Black Blood, whatever they had been doing-hunting in the wilderness, eating in a cave, bowing before an altar, or fighting their enemies-
At that moment, they all felt as though lightning had struck them.
Their faces turned deathly pale, their bodies stiffened, and their pupils dilated.
When they came to their senses, they fell to their knees one after another, prostrating themselves in the dirt and sobbing uncontrollably.
Those hunters who considered themselves fierce, those butchers who delighted in slaughter, now cried like little children who had lost their parents.
And that was not all.
In the surviving Shepherd Worlds, whether the skies had been clear or rainy, dark clouds suddenly gathered, followed by torrential rains of blood.
Raindrops pattered down, striking the earth.
Mountains, rivers, tribes, and temples were all stained red. A sorrowful, oppressive atmosphere enveloped each world, and the air grew thick and heavy, suffocating all within it.
It was as though the sky had fallen.
In truth, that was not far off.
To believers, the deity they worshipped was their sky.
The Lord of Black Blood had fallen.
Their faith and prayers no longer had anyone to turn to.
At that moment, the believers of the Lord of Black Blood felt as though they had lost their purpose and direction in life.
Fear, bewilderment, helplessness-
All these emotions enveloped every one of them.
Still, their present state would not last forever.
Life always found its own way forward.
For most believers, faith was not the entirety of their lives.
With their deity's death and the passage of time, most of the Lord of Black Blood's believers would gradually abandon their faith, seek their own livelihoods, and turn to other gods.
Besides,