At this moment, within the ghost world, a grim gathering of ghost kings convened near the void passage. Their faces were etched with gravity, the air around them suffused with an oppressive silence.
"The Ghost King Bernard is dead, and his army of a million evil spirits… annihilated. Not a single one survived," a ghost king declared, his voice laden with disbelief.
"What? Bernard is dead?!"
"That's impossible!" another ghost king retorted, his eyes wide with shock. "This void passage led to a so-called low-level world. A place teeming with defenseless blood food! How could he, along with his entire army, be wiped out?"
"Ridiculous," a third ghost king scoffed, his tone edged with skepticism. "Bernard may not have been the strongest among us, but he was still a ghost king! And with an army of a million evil spirits at his command? The idea of such complete destruction… It's unthinkable!"
The murmurs of disbelief rippled through the gathered ghost kings. The intelligence they'd received had been clear: the world on the other side of the passage was supposed to be insignificant. Ordinary humans, untrained and powerless, were expected to be easy prey.
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Yet now, Bernard was dead, and the news struck like a thunderclap.
"The intelligence was wrong," a ghost king growled, his tone chilling as a cold light flickered in his spectral eyes. "This isn't a low-level world—it's an extremely high-level one. And let me remind you all: Bernard and his million-strong army weren't overwhelmed by attrition or sustained warfare. They were annihilated in an instant. Even escape was impossible."
He swept his gaze over the others, his words sinking in like venom. "You know what this means."
The silence deepened, the weight of his words pressing down on them.
"It means," he continued, his voice low, "that the power residing in that world is far beyond what we imagined. A force capable of not just defeating a ghost king but erasing him and his entire army in a single moment. If it can obliterate Bernard, it can obliterate any of us. Perhaps with even greater ease."
The other ghost kings exchanged uneasy glances. The implications were clear—and terrifying.
"But if this world is so powerful, then why was Bernard able to enter so easily?" one ghost king asked, his expression twisted with confusion. "Why didn't they resist from the start?"
"You still don't get it, do you?" snarled another, his voice filled with disdain. "It was a trap—a carefully laid one. The people of that world must have pretended to be weak to lure Bernard into a false sense of security. They wanted him to think it was a low-level world, so he'd lead his army deep inside. And when he was in too far to retreat, they struck. Hard."
His fists clenched as he spat out the next words: "That arrogant fool fell for their ploy. He underestimated them, let his guard down, and paid the ultimate price. By the time he realized his mistake, it was already too late."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
"Damn it!" the red-haired ghost king roared, his fiery mane crackling with fury. "The humans in that world are too bold! How dare they bait us like this? Do they think they can lead wolves into their home and not suffer the consequences?!"
His rage boiled over, his voice echoing through the void. But beneath the anger, a gnawing fear lingered—a fear shared by every ghost king present. For if the humans of this mysterious world had the power to slaughter a ghost king and his army so effortlessly, what chance did they truly stand?