The flight stretched for what felt like three endless minutes.
But Sienna knew better.
Her Soul Realm was vast — three times the size of the mortal Earth — an infinite suffocating expanse where time and distance were toys she allowed to exist. The generals were not flying by speed.
They were brutally raping space-time itself, tearing through layer after layer with raw nether and death energy, clawing forward with violent starving force.
Then the air changed.
The nether thickened into a choking living sludge that pressed against their bodies like wet concrete poured straight into their lungs.
Death energy coiled tighter, greener, heavier, wrapping around throats and limbs like nooses of rotting silk. The Abyssal Dragon's wing-strokes slowed first — the corrupted air refusing the small mortal courtesy of resistance, the wings now beating against a substance that pushed back like meat.
