Holy! Holy!

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

In the Golden Palm Federation, right next to the Mist Sea, several standing members of parliament and a group of upstart career politicians

—even Paimon, the God of Trickery, and Camio, the God of the Wilderness, who had somehow reached an agreement and returned to the camp of the evil gods—leapt onto the rooftops and looked toward the apocalyptic Mist Sea in the east.

Death Messenger, the strongest human, suddenly widened his eyes.

"Was this a god war?!"

In truth,

it was not just them. High-level Extraordinary Persons across half of the New Continent had been alarmed by the surging, terrifying waves in the Spiritual World and looked toward the Mist Sea from afar.

Once they realized what had happened, every one of them was terrified, afraid that a stray aftershock might suddenly crash down on their heads.

At that moment, in the Mist Sea,

vast water vapor spread through the sky in every direction like heavy dark clouds that blotted out the world, while rolling thunder seemed ready to blast the heavens apart.

Yet before the torrential rain could pour down like a waterfall, it was evaporated again by the scorching ten suns overhead.

The world between sea and sky was not dim at all. Instead, it was as bright as day.

Gurgle, gurgle.

Before the ten suns had even fully descended, the ocean had already become a pot of boiling soup. The armies of monsters that had gathered there earlier had long become part of the seafood broth.

Only Cthulhu, the Sleeping God, the "main course," was still resisting alone.

Hiss!

Having fully unfolded his Mythical Form, the Sleeping God stood a hundred meters tall. His upper body was blue-green flesh resembling an octopus head with six eyes, while his lower body was a