I could feel it clearly now. This was no longer a commander observing a threat from a distance.
This was a hunter locking onto prey.
Crimson mist still clung faintly to my body, rising and falling with my breath. The Executor's Halo pressed outward, subtle but firm, forcing the surrounding laws to align around me whether they wanted to or not. The space between us felt tight, stretched thin like a wire about to snap.
Below, the armies collided again. Demons roared and charged. Phantoms descended. Deathmist flooded the battlefield in thick waves. But none of it mattered in that instant.
Only the Eternal did.
The Eternal did not move to stop the armies or even Saleos who had rushed past both of us toward the core layer.
Instead, he lifted one hand slowly, almost casually, as if testing the flow of space in the void.
The moment he did, something felt wrong.
The Essence around me thinned.
It did not dispersed or was disrupted. It was being taken away.
