"This is my limit."
The True Depravita of Wrath spoke the words softly, yet they resonated through the void like thunder. His body trembled, his soul quivered, and even his Depravita Sun flickered with strain. He knew that no matter how deep his will ran, no matter how unyielding his determination, his flesh and spirit could not push another inch toward the nebula.
It was not a failure of resolve; it was simply the truth—objective reality asserting its boundary.
And yet, instead of despair, a faint smile touched his lips.
Vlad lifted his gaze toward the distant figures of the other True Depravitas and whispered, "Luckily… I am not alone."
The words echoed across the battlefield of stars.
At that instant, Jormungandr, Freya, Fafnir, and Ouroboros—each of them having already reached their own limits—felt Vlad's psychic call pierce their minds. Without hesitation, they answered.
