The space, a battlefield of gods and demons, was now a swirling storm of dark energy.
Edgar had unleashed his trump card. The trillions of pores on his massive body had become gateways, vomiting forth a torrent of Demonic Miasma from the Seven Realms.
This was not his own power. It was a boon, a gift from the seven Demon Lords themselves, a concentrated, SSS-Grade poison forged from their seven fundamental laws: Discord, Gluttony, Curses, Fear, Lies, Despair, and Corrosion.
The miasma, a multi-colored fog of malice, surged forward, its sole purpose to annihilate the two clones of Sunny that stood in its path.
It was an attack designed to kill not just the body, but the soul, the mind, and the very hope of Sunny and all the others.
But Sunny's clone simply let go, a calm, almost casual, gesture.
He and his twin brother, clone number one, stood side-by-side, they both formed a wall of mana, with a tinge of faith to tackle this demonic energy.
