Stranded

It was then a familiar pain set in. Dyon felt like a sickly, diseased man, going from an overlord of the skies to a frail boy in the blink of an eye. 

Black flames uncontrollably flickered within Dyon's empty eye sockets. His heart was seized with a searing heat he found impossible to temper for a long while. 

He had known that the Immortal Plane had an Ancient Battlefield long ago, but he had never thought to think that the untouchable central region of that prison was where it was located. Even with his abilities, he hadn't been able to see through the fact that the mountain range that separated the flat plains from that core region was actually a seal. 

It was likely this very seal that impeded the immortal Failed Clans from interfering with the mortal Failed Clans. Yet, it seemed it didn't stop mortals from crossing over into it, because it hadn't stopped Dyon.