The transition from the Void was not a rescue; it was a relocation to a higher hell. As Fang Yuan's indigo warp-gate collapsed behind them, they materialized not on a beach, but on a massive plaza crafted from polished obsidian that hummed with unholy energy.
The turquoise sky was choked with soot, and the three suns were not distant stars, but burning ocular orifices of an ancient, cosmic entity.
Fang Yuan hit the ground, his Rank 2: Space-Time Weaver senses immediately screaming in warning. The air wasn't just heavy; it was saturated with a dense, acidic mana that tried to corrode his indigo threads. This wasn't a lawless wilderness. The laws here were rigid, cruel, and very, very active.
"Master..." Lia wheezed, falling to her knees. Her eyes widened in terror as she looked toward the edge of the plaza. "They... they are everywhere."
From the shadows of monolithic black towers, figures began to emerge. They were not the mindless wraiths of the Void. These were Obsidian Demons—humanoid entities clad in natural armor of jagged volcanic glass, with eyes that burned like dying coals.
Fang Yuan quickly scanned the nearest one. His soul shuddered. Rank 2: Demon Weaver. The demon was manipulating the air around it, weaving threads of solidified shadow. This wasn't a grunt; it was an equivalent to Fang Yuan's own power, and there were thousands of them.
And high above, on a throne carved from a fallen comet, sat an entity that eclipsed them all. A Rank 3: Abyssal Overlord, whose presence alone dictated the atmospheric pressure of the entire city.
"Intruders," a voice boomed, echoing not in the air, but directly within their minds. It was the Rank 3 Overlord. "You carry the scent of the Void and the stain of a rival Galaxy. State your business before I render your souls into fuel."
Kaelen and Zane, still unconscious but physically altered by the Void-Essence, began to stir. Their presence, distorted and alien, drew the hungry gaze of the Demon Weavers.
Fang Yuan stood perfectly still. He was a Rank 2 entity surrounded by an army of Rank 2 beings, under the gaze of a Rank 3 God. One wrong move, one trace of his original galaxy's mana, and they would be erased. He needed a lie. A lie woven so perfectly into the Space-Time of this world that even the Abyssal Overlord would believe it.