Khonshu could hardly suppress the urge to curse.
When Schiller came to find him, he had made it sound so simple: Khonshu only needed to handle the special effects, while Schiller would take care of everything else. But the problem was, Schiller had come out purely to put on special effects.
During the earlier battle against the Minotaur monster, Schiller had not done a single serious thing, yet the special effects had been cranked to the max from start to finish. Never mind how much damage he dealt—just tell me, wasn't that new skin cool?
Throughout the entire battle, Schiller had only done two things himself: first, stood on the rooftop and counted down before jumping; second, given the two Ghost Riders two solid hammer blows. Every other action had been carried out by Khonshu.
Including but not limited to helping Schiller conceal his face, reducing the damage from falling, teleporting him, making him immune to the gravity field, saving Stark, and even throwing the long staff that delivered the final blow into the Minotaur monster's neck with magic.
Schiller was like that gorilla at the zoo, stretching out a hand and demanding, "Special effects!" If the cosmic system ever cracked down on power-leveling, Schiller would be the first to get banned.
Worst of all, Schiller's requirements for this job had been absurdly high. Beyond all the spellcasting, Khonshu had also needed to block out the moonlight for him. Khonshu might have been the Moon God, but celestial movement followed cosmic laws, and interfering with it was no easy task. He had already wasted quite a bit of power earlier, and that final move had completely exhausted him.
"All right, stop complaining. Other people would kill for the chance to work this overtime."
Schiller removed his hooded cloak and set