Afterword Finale: Big Brother's Advice—If You Can Win by Looks, Don't Starve Yourself to Death Through Hard Work!
To gods, time was both a beautiful and valuable ornament.
Like the most perfect telescope, it allowed those seated high above the heavens to use all the beautiful things nurtured by time to fill their occasional moments of leisure amid their busy lives.
But even when merely observing, gods had to be extremely careful, afraid that too much attention would crush those fragile mortals living in "glass houses."
Thus, they had all become a bunch of shady "peeping toms," putting immense pressure on mortals capable of understanding the meaning of gods. Who knew whether, while doing something private, a curious gaze from some meddlesome fellow might be watching from behind?
Most irritating of all, there really were some bastards among the gods who delighted in stirring up trouble.
Whenever a carefully plotted conspiracy neared fruition, only for sudden overwhelming power to intervene and shatter the conspirators' hopes, that furious sense of defeat was enough to drive those rats lurking in the shadows and peering at the sunlight completely mad.
Draenor tonight was one such example.
As the swift-moving Arakkoa assassins vanished before Shattrath City's dawn, Garrosh on the ground finally breathed a sigh of relief.
The Mag'har Khan was able to relax. He wiped the blood from his hands with a handkerchief while straightening his elaborate formalwear, ensuring that he would be suitably presentable for the grand wedding to be held here in a few hours.
Behind Little Hellscream, who had grown a beard to enhance his dignity, Yorin Deadeye—also dressed in traditional formal attire—walked forward with a slight limp, leaning on his Spine Staff.
He said in a low voice:
"We checked them all. The buried explosives have been dealt with,