The images on the blood crystal gradually dimmed. All the Reconnaissance Troop Types had died.
Yet the Seven Thrones remained unsettled for a long time.
Sitting in the Blood King's seat, Little Mage was certain that all seven of them had suffered a mental breakdown.
Just like him when his attempt to hand out freebies failed, they had fallen into despair.
That fleeting glimpse had shattered their worldview. A mere tip of the iceberg of Monster World had crushed every shred of pride in their hearts.
It was a height beyond their reach, and the understanding they had built through previous Interdimensional Wars had shattered along with it.
Little Mage could more or less understand how they felt.
In Monster World, the power understood by the Spirit Breath Race's Seven Thrones was like sand a child played with.
The Super Beast Divine Weapons and biotechnology they had once taken such pride in were as flimsy as paper before a world of a higher dimension.
Some of the data from the world analysis already exceeded the bounds of their understanding.
"What... are we?" Bone King whispered hoarsely.
Looking down at those hands, the strength that had once enabled conquests across worlds now seemed so laughable.
Bone King had once believed that strength made a mighty conqueror of worlds, an apocalypse that brought destruction.
Only now did they understand that they were merely frogs at the bottom of a well, chancing to look up and glimpse the true sky, so vast that it inspired despair.
"All our wars, schemes, glory..." Fungus King gave a bitter laugh.
"It turns out they were nothing but an ants' carnival."
The Spirit Breath Race had its own way of judging a world's strength.
Just as when they first scouted Earth, a simple investigation had revealed that