Meanwhile.
Thousands of Blood-Derived creatures poured out of the Doraqi tribe's blood nest. Aside from some who were consumed by immense grief and fury over the Painter's death, most were utterly bewildered.
They even thought the Painter had caused the chaos, and that an inevitable war had finally begun.
As the tribe's spiritual leader, Doraqi had been waiting for this day for a long time!
He had known about the Painter's unorthodox beliefs for ages.
But the Painter's special status had kept him from acting rashly. On the one hand, the Painter enjoyed immense prestige within the broodmother, equivalent to being the "mother" of all the Blood-Derived. On the other, Doraqi had yet to build enough authority. He had not built a temple or become a deity; he was merely a prophet elder.
Ansel the Painter was like an obstinate monster who could not be reasoned with. After years of negotiations, Doraqi had completely lost patience.
This tribe needed a decisive war.
The victor would determine the tribe's future history: whether they would build a temple or leave this place to search for an elusive hope. It all came down to this battle.
Doraqi was confident that he would be the victor.
At the peak bottleneck of his evolution, he had begun to sense the existence of Law Power. It was a vast, boundless force he could not describe in words. In its presence, he was so insignificant and feeble that it seemed even a tiny fraction of its power would let him look down on all living things.
At last, he could begin to understand the irresistible might of the deities from before the cataclysm.
Such power was within his grasp!
All he had to do was gather enough faith and belief, then forge a God Body. That would