The swirling snow dust rapidly sweeps across the boundless icefield, the pale Throat of the Abyss moving its bulky body, once again striking towards Bologue. This time, as the Secret Source recedes, it releases its power without restraint, the vile ethereal fluctuations gradually rising, until an ether fire of the Seeker of Glory level ignites.
Undoubtedly, this embodiment of world calamity possesses the power of a Glory Seeker, and in fact, it is even far stronger than a typical Glory Seeker.
Anyone who faces it directly will feel the sinister frenzy originating from the essence of darkness, that pure aura of terror, enough to conquer anyone with a frail mind.
But Bologue is no longer among them.
Bologue stands in place, his hands tightly grasping his weapon, an unnameable fire scorching within, his blood boiling alongside.
"Facing power with composure, dedicated without reserve..."
