"Tch, Killing Blow!"
Two voices rang out almost simultaneously in the utterly soundless world.
"Shluck!"
Then came two simultaneous sounds of weapons being pulled out of flesh!
In the blink of an eye, the two had once again opened a gap of nearly several dozen light-years. Having pulled their weapons out of the Black Pharaoh's body, they resumed their standoff!
"Where on earth were they hiding just now?!"
A werewolf-like Great Old One whose strength approached that of a Middle Great Old One spoke numbly.
"In front of beings like these, I feel like we aren't even the same species!"
He sighed, but someone soon followed up on his earlier question.
"Mother, how did those two manage to suddenly disappear from the world?!"
At some point, Aphoom-Zhah, who had been at the edge of the night sky, had transformed into a pale-faced young Black man and returned to Earth.
He steadied himself against a nearby pine tree. Though he seemed physically well enough, his dim eyes suggested that his mind had suffered a devastating blow.
With that dim, utterly ravaged gaze, he looked at his mother, Kregya.
"I tried for so long, but I couldn't find them hiding anywhere! Even when they suddenly appeared, I couldn't detect a single trace!"
Aphoom-Zhah's voice was filled with agonized frustration.
Losing to an enemy was nothing to fear. After all, although they were all Middle Great Old Ones, both Hastur and the Mysterious Lord were undoubtedly dozens of times his age!
They were genuinely beings of the same generation as his mother.
Aphoom-Zhah did not find it particularly humiliating to lose to someone who practically belonged to his elders' generation.
At least, not compared with his current predicament.
The problem was that when Hastur and the Mysterious Lord had unleashed that final, decisive