Alone in the dim, icy divine kingdom, seated alone upon the majestic, lofty throne, with cold winds breathing around him and frost drifting wildly through the sky, the God of Hurricane sat motionless with his eyes closed. He was in an utterly terrible state.
Both physically and mentally!
Physically, Atedilon had suffered a fractured soul after enduring two Legendary-level killing attacks head-on. The battle qi the Legendary Knight had imbued into his lance had kept his wounds from healing. Although the god had not yet been gravely injured enough to lose his fighting strength, the sensation of having his soul and even his thoughts shattered and ravaged was enough to make any living creature tremble in agony.
And mentally... he had to admit that Punk's scheme had already succeeded for the most part. Atedilon was now experiencing an unprecedented torment born of faith.
This time, the desperate prayers he heard were no longer a chaotic, clamorous jumble. Instead, they were a clear yet hazy sob of despair—a little girl believer crying softly...
What a heartbreaking, subdued cry it was. The God of Hurricane knew very well that this young believer had done nothing wrong. She was merely a child who diligently recited the scriptures every day and was a little mischievous besides. Yet now, because she had become embroiled in this Legendary war, this innocent child was about to be sent onto an altar of flame and reduced to ashes.
For some reason, that childish prayer filled with questions and fear was the one Atedilon could not drive from his ears. Even as other equally heavy and oppressive prayers battered his heart like crashing waves, the battered god simply could not ignore this tender voice's tearful plea.
Clenching the greatsword in his hand and biting through his lower lip in