Sunlight poured down like a golden waterfall.
It stretched Ian's shadow long and slender.
He stood at the edge of the spatial rift, almost touching the thick, tar-like darkness within. The rustling whispers of the Black Robe Wizards drifted from the dark fissure.
Fear was spreading among them.
It could not be helped.
After all, Ian had brought up Raven again—it was obvious these people were truly terrified of Raven, as though they had developed an allergy to the very name.
"Raven... You want to know about Raven."
Zeus lifted his hood. His azure eyes flickered with a light woven from vigilance and memories. His withered fingers gripped a bone staff tightly, its eagle-headed ornament gleaming coldly beneath the sun.
"The Titans created us to deal with Raven."
"Those arrogant Titans had their own fears too, and that fear was called Raven. They created us to fight the thing they feared."
"You were meant to fight Raven?"
Ian frowned slightly, astonished.
"Yes. Raven is an ancient god, an existence even older than the Titans. Legend says... when the world reaches its end, it will descend and take away the souls of all life, including Death, including everything."
Zeus's voice grew grave, and like his people, his tone carried fear. It was precisely because of that fear that he did not dare refute Ian's threats.
In fact.
Zeus had always had quite a temper. But having a temper did not mean he was stupid. He could still tell when he could lose his temper and when he could not.
"Including Death?"
Ian thought he might mean Death, but in these people's linguistic system, the word "god" was currently used specifically to refer to the Titans.
Of course.
It was also used to refer to Raven, which was even older than the