Several months later.
In the north of the Continent of Faerun.
"Rumble—"
Amid the violent roar.
Orsaga sat on the deck of the Astral Ship.
As he watched the conflicts in the distance, he softly hummed a wordless tune.
Beside him, Haqqatar and Kaleid stood neatly dressed, not daring to speak.
They looked like bodyguards.
Though Orsaga had no need for bodyguards.
As the breeze brushed across his face, he asked leisurely and calmly:
"After this period of familiarization and investigation, how confident are you in dealing with those true gods in a direct confrontation?"
Kaleid, the one responsible for martial force, answered respectfully:
"Under normal circumstances, with the aid of the Holy Artifact, this subordinate's odds of victory should be around eighty percent."
As mentioned before, in the World of Toril, it was not only the power of gods that was restricted.
Any power exceeding the limit.
Even divine artifacts without intelligence would still be restricted.
Therefore, the Slaughterer of All Beings, which should originally have been able to slaughter the vast majority of weakling gods with ease, had also been dragged down to roughly the same level as its opponents here, forcibly having its effectiveness slashed at the knees.
Thus, Kaleid having an eighty-percent chance of victory was already not low.
After all.
External strength was ultimately external strength.
Even diminished gods had once been wealthy.
Compared to mortal Lifeforms, they still possessed innate advantages in every fundamental aspect.
For example, those Combat Type gods, bolstered by their divine portfolios and godhood, were born with peerless combat skills.
Compared to mortals, they could better judge the trajectory of every strike and the proper response.
It was like having a cheat that automatically analyzed everything.
Moreover, they could also receive a certain degree of Win Rate Buff.
Take the