The True Creator, who was still watching her, reacted faster than the Chief and the City of Silver's Exploration Team.
The gaze resting on her suddenly grew heavy. Caught off guard, Alice abruptly heard the True Creator's ravings.
The voice was noisy, and the emotions behind it were clearly intense. Curious, Alice tried to make out its contents and vaguely caught several syllables of "Suka Blyat."
This wasn't any language Alice knew. Given the existence of Giant Language, she suspected it might be the True Creator's—or rather, the Ancient Sun God's—native tongue.
And with high probability, it was a curse.
Although her thoughts had wandered far afield, Alice, determined to play her part in this grand performance, didn't let her expression change. With a pitying look, she swept her gaze over the people of the City of Silver, observing their emotional reactions.
Besides the Chief, there were thirteen members gathered here. That was a very unlucky number—though perhaps it wasn't considered so here.
After all, the two most widely known origins of that belief were the Last Supper and Norse Mythology.
In Alice's impression, mysticism as it had developed to this day didn't seem to have such a notion. Even if it were applied to the new version of the Last Supper, the number probably wouldn't be thirteen, but... how many people did Redemption Rose have again?
The Goddess, Sasrir, Medici... Wait, what was I doing just now?
Alice refocused her attention on the City of Silver's Exploration Team.
Setting aside the weathered Chief, Alice felt the remaining members could all be called teenagers or children, even though the shortest among them was over six feet three inches tall.
However, what filled Alice with indignation was that, judging by their youthful faces, some of them hadn't even come of age—perhaps