This screech no longer carried the high and mighty divine majesty; instead, it sounded more like the wail of an ancient beast wounded to its very core, crying out in agony and terror!
His mountain-sized body completely lost its balance after instantly losing two vital supports; like a towering ancient tree with half its roots severed, he stumbled and retreated violently and pathetically!
The remaining four spider legs flailed wildly, attempting to grip the ground and stabilize his form, but they only plowed deep, black-smoke-emitting trenches into the earth!
Eight legs, now only four remained!
His broken body, constantly oozing filthy black blood, with its shattered carapace and dim compound eyes—where was the majesty and arrogance from when he first descended? All that remained was the exposed, twisted, and pathetic essence of a monster, stripped of its holy facade!
The most critical part was that the wounds where the two new legs had been severed were just like the previous ones—
There were still no signs of regeneration or healing!
No granulation tissue wriggling, no energy gathering; he could not even slow the bleeding!
There was only a kind of pure "void" left behind, as if some sort of "existence" had been forcibly dug out and stripped away, along with that "excruciating pain" stemming from the soul and the level of rules, far more profound and desperate than any physical agony!
It was a shaking of his faith in "immortality," a direct blow to the very foundation of his existence!
"It is useless! Red-Haired Shanks!!"
Satan Saint forcibly used his remaining four legs to stabilize his teetering, massive body.
He raised his hideous head, covered in compound eyes, and stared fixedly at Shanks, who stood in the distance holding his sword.
His compound eyes burned with frantic rage, monstrous hatred, and a trace of... deep terror toward that sword which could "sever immortality," a terror that leaked out no matter how he tried to hide it!
His voice, raspy and twisted like grinding metal due to pain and fury, still attempted to rebuild that inviolable divine majesty with the most ferocious tone:
"The 'immortality' bestowed by the authority of God is absolute! It is an iron law inscribed in the deepest depths of the world's rules!"
"Even if you were lucky enough to temporarily block the regeneration of my body with your inexplicable 'will' and 'Haki'..."
He took a deep breath, his voice suddenly rising, carrying a hysterical emphasis:
"But as long as my will remains! As long as my connection to the 'Void Throne' has not been completely severed by your laughable mortal sword—"
"I shall be eternal and undying! This mere physical damage is nothing but... a temporary delay! It is the futile struggle of an ant trying to shake a tree!"
"Once I have thoroughly crushed you and cast your soul into eternal torment, everything will return to how it was!"
"I, am still the supreme 'God'!"
These words were both a declaration and a deterrent to his enemy, and perhaps, even more so, the palest and most powerless attempt at forceful reassurance and self-hypnosis for his own heart and faith, which had already begun to waver and even crack!
He was attempting to use empty words like "absolute," "iron law," and "eternal" to cover up the cold fact that his wounds could not regenerate, and the fear quietly spreading deep within his heart—the fear that his own "immortality" might not be absolute!
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It might not seem tempting right nobut who knows what the future holds?
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