The Forgotten One brought down destruction without expression, while the Black Descent Half Gods fought with all their might for a chance at survival. The great flood of Judgment Hell came from both ends, about to converge, and all life would soon face its final verdict. Since the birth of Black Descent Hell, perhaps there had never been an apocalyptic moment so cataclysmic. With every breath, lives fell. In every instant, Spellcasters narrowly escaped death—or failed to.
Yet on this battlefield where every second was life or death, three people froze in place at the same time. The roar of wind and thunder grinding together, the shriek of warped space-time, the howling screams of ice and fire, the despairing wails of the Half Gods—every last clamor seemed to draw away from them in that instant. It was as if Fate had finally found its conscience and exchanged all their past drifting and hardship for this one backward glance.
After several months apart, Harvey seemed unchanged. He still wore dark red clothes convenient for handling corpses, and just looking at him was enough to make one smell the preservative on him. But half his face was burning, using his white-toothed skull as fuel to ignite a ghastly white and ink-green Icy Blazing Fire. Harvey had been practicing Fire Art ever since Multistar Prison, intending to transform "Icy Blazing Fire" into a dual Necromancy-and-fire Miracle. He had never been willing to waste the Blazing Fire Inheritance Qikala had entrusted to him... It seemed that in these months in Hell, he had finally achieved something.
Igula was draped in a black velvet cloak, dressed with meticulous elegance and propriety, but Ash noticed at a glance that the golden long hair he had often groomed in the past was now messily tied into a