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The Heavenly Emperor, more than anyone else—even more than Xarion—was the most deeply affected. He who had dismissed Maria as a trivial threat now faced the bitter truth of his arrogance. Three of his seven Heavenly Saints, the mightiest warriors beneath him in all of Murim, were gone.
He clutched his head with trembling hands. Though no tears fell, his eyes widened and reddened with raw disbelief.
And beneath it all surged a pain he had not felt in centuries.
Sorrow.
"...Red Heaven, Yellow Heaven, Purple Heaven!"
He gnashed his teeth in fury, fingers digging into his scalp, ripping out strands of hair in a storm of rage, frustration, and grief.
"DAMN IT! HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?! WHAT... WHAT IS SHE?! THIS MAKES NO SENSE! IT MAKES NO GODDAMN SENSE AT ALL! HEAVENS! WHY?! WHY HAVE YOU UNLEASHED THAT MONSTER UPON US?!"
As he roared, the remaining four Heavenly Saints wept openly, mourning the abrupt loss of their three cherished siblings.
