Daimon Gate sprinkled the ground with layers of undead magic power, his expression grave.
The stench of decaying corpses permeated the air, as if it could connect the spatial channel to Hell's Abyss at any moment, devouring everything around, even light unable to escape, like a black hole.
For beings below the Seventh-order, once swallowed, probably only bones would remain in the next second.
Even though it continuously corroded Somerset, the Eighth Ancestor, it could not inflict substantial damage on him, undead as he was. He resisted the corpse stench with his own regeneration power and approached Lord Skeleton Daimon Gate.
"Weak, too weak!"
Somerset, the Eighth Ancestor Marquis, laughed heartily to the skies, his voice echoing like muffled thunder within the Hall of Annihilation.
He suddenly leaped forward with a speed nearly imperceptible to the naked eye.
The next second, he appeared in front of Mercury Lord Micheal, throwing a punch toward her face.