Beacon fires blazed without end, and blood-red clouds lit up the world.
After yet another bloody battle, the Weird Race once again breached part of the Boundary Sea's territory.
On the Boundary Sea's side, gloom hung heavy. They were exhausted, and the vast majority of living beings could see no hope. They already knew how the Boundary Sea would end.
Willow God and the others were tending their wounds, using every moment they could to recover before the next battle, which would not be long in coming.
Among the many Quasi-Immortal Emperors still alive, there was little conversation. No one discussed plans. They simply healed their wounds in silence.
For this battle, there was no need to talk, no need to make plans.
It would all be useless.
No matter how much they talked, no matter how ingenious their plans, before the gulf in absolute strength, it would all be empty talk, false words.
The Mighty Ones each had one life and were willing to stake it against the enemy. At worst, they would leave that life here. There was nothing to say, no need to say anything. Words held no meaning.
Nor did anyone urge the others to retreat or leave. Everyone understood what lay ahead. No urging was needed.
Since the war began, the Weird Race had advanced steadily through the Boundary Sea, while Willow God and the others had been driven back just as steadily. Despair had long been gathering in every heart.
The Weird Race's powerful fighters were not especially pleased with their progress, but they could accept it.
After all, they had already won many victories.
In the open, the Weird Race attacked without pause. In secret, the Weird Immortal Emperors had been watching the Boundary Sea all along.
The tenacity of these Heavens had