"Don't even think of escaping! Unforgivable! You, of all people-I will tear you out with my own hands! Not a single scrap of you will remain!"
Within the pitch-black, empty cracks between dimensions, a white light spanning heaven and earth blazed once again.
It scoured every realm it could touch, over and over. With each sweep, countless multiverses were created and destroyed.
This stance, utterly unlike his earlier leisurely inward contraction, was proof that Pāpīyas had already flown into a rage.
Even so, Roland still had the illusion of dying.
No... it was no illusion. He had probably already died more times than he could count.
Before the density of immeasurable numbers, worlds, spacetime, and fate alike would be crushed into indescribably fine particles, ultimately returning to chaos.
Within this power, which was less an erasure than a restoration from the root, every means of resistance lost its original meaning.
Even powers beyond imagination-black holes from which even light could scarcely escape, or the Sixth Magic, capable of creating worlds and opening up infinite futures-could not compare to the slightest fraction of what was here.
Roland had originally thought his extravagant principle of the path would at least accomplish something.
He had never expected it to accomplish only the tiniest bit-after merely an instant, immeasurable numbers would destroy him again.
In a sense, Pāpīyas's self-centered attitude was not entirely unfounded.
It was just like when Roland had first become a Perfect Demon God in A Certain Magical Index World. Though he was on the same scale as Nephthys, Niangniang, and the others, he had still thought nothing of them.
Treating trash he could crush with a single finger as an equal was a very difficult thing indeed.
Had he not used the Key of All Spirits to bind Pāpīyas's sole