It can't be smashed.
Yi Lin felt a pang of discomfort.
Watching a friend die here in such a manner, he should have cried out loud.
Yet, he couldn't.
He wasn't able to.
That feeling—as if his heart was being tightly pinched by an unseen hand—left Yi Lin deeply uneasy.
"Ah..."
In the end,
Yi Lin abandoned the foolish notion of hammering the Death Skin into pieces. Head held high, he stared at the dazzling auroras in the heavens above.
The auroras shattered. The battle between Goddess Xi and the alien god— a divine conflict far beyond the grasp of mere humans—seemed to have reached its conclusion.
"It's all over."
... Over.
...
As the Heavenly Continent plummeted downward,
Gilgamesh unexpectedly leapt to the bottom of the landmass.
Compared to the vast continent, his diminutive frame was like that of an ant bearing the weight of a mountain.
Under Gilgamesh's strength, the descent of the Heavenly Continent abruptly slowed.
"Crack, crack, crack—"
