Elf World.
The gods pursued them all the way from the trees.
They raised a great ship on the surface of the sea and peered down into the ocean, discovering Herodotus's terrifying battle record. Their hearts filled with both delight and fear.
That was an army of millions of Abyss troops.
He had broken through two unprecedented realms in succession, yet one man alone had routed such a terrifying number.
So, the further life advanced, the more terrifying an individual's power became?
However.
No matter how strong one's battle power was, one could still be worn to death.
Herodotus was like a candle burning at tremendous speed, liable to go out at any moment.
"We can't go forward to help." Minis stood at the front of the gods. "That power is indiscriminate. We would become targets too."
"Then all we can do is stand ready to receive him at any time!" one of the gods said.
That was what they said.
But Minis's heart sank uncontrollably.
Herodotus had no intention of turning back.
He intended to kill his way to the end, stop the Demon Lord's resurrection, and devour the Lost Souls along the way to sustain his own soul.
He wanted to flatten the entire Abyss World by himself.
"Damn it!"
Minis's eyes were bloodshot, and his fists clenched tighter and tighter.
At the critical juncture between a civilization's survival and extinction, he could do nothing.
What tormented him even more was that they were all geniuses of the same era. Yet Atabia and Herodotus had each left him far behind, reaching heights so terrifying he could scarcely believe them.
No matter how hard he worked, he could never catch up to those retreating figures.
A tangled mixture of despair and helplessness continued to spread through his heart.
Ilis