In the wake of the Sovereign Ghoul Ape's invisible, telepathic execution of the armored Obsidian-Spiked Tortoise, the thousands of gathered demonic cultists were struck absolutely dumb.
The immediate visceral reaction was not awe, but profound, nauseating terror.
Many of the younger acolytes and untested thralls squeezed their eyes shut, explicitly unable to process the sheer, unadulterated horror of a creature being liquefied from the inside out without a single physical blow being landed.
Sunny stood upon the elevated obsidian balcony, projecting an aura of statuesque apathy. Internally, his uncultivated mind was reeling, but he forced his physical form to remain perfectly still. He slowly reached down and gently traced the pulsing, bruised-purple veins of the Abyssal Void-Sac hovering above his crown. The spatial anomaly felt strangely cool against his trembling fingers.
