Cheng Yu had no idea how much time had passed. His consciousness faded more and more often, but thanks to the peculiar nature of his Rule Body, he continued devouring his opponent.
His opponent, meanwhile, seemed like stubbornness incarnate, determined to fight him to the bitter end.
Fortunately, Cheng Yu was fairly lucky. He seized the chance to absorb some drifting strands of rules.
Perhaps his opponent absorbed some as well, but whether because it had no brain or because it was simply too massive, those scattered fragments of rules did little to strengthen it.
As Cheng Yu absorbed more of the drifting Void Rules, he finally began gaining the upper hand.
At least he no longer had to live in terror of being swallowed by his opponent through a moment of carelessness.
Yet the closer his Rule Body came to completion, the harder it became for Cheng Yu to stay conscious.
Time seemed to lose all meaning. Here, at the boundary between the Real World and the Void, Cheng Yu's consciousness was the only tool for measuring time, and now that tool seemed to have broken.
If asked what it felt like to be unable to sense his own consciousness, Cheng Yu would have said that it felt like nothing at all.
Or, more precisely, it was like falling asleep the moment your head touched the pillow after an exhausting day, then never getting up, dreaming, or even turning over in your sleep-that feeling of completely losing yourself.
After an unknown amount of time, Cheng Yu regained consciousness.
Not because he had succeeded, but because his opponent was about to devour him.
Alarmed, Cheng Yu began fighting back.
In the midst of it, Cheng Yu asked the System in frustration.
*System, how the hell am I supposed to get