Natural Disaster

Having seen a war in his prophecy and analyzed it, Truman was no longer prepared to stay in the Giant King's Court.

"Hermes, let's go." Truman called out to Hermes directly and walked out of that towering giant palace. "Our people need us."

Hermes nodded in silence, following Truman as he stepped out of the palace.

"Where are you going?" Just as they were about to leave the Giant King's Court, Badheil's voice came from behind them.

"Cooperation is feasible; I believe we can maintain a certain level of tacit understanding." Truman looked at Badheil, his words carrying a deeper meaning.

"But right now, many people—or gods—do not want our cooperation to pose a threat to them, so they have taken countermeasures."

"Let's resolve the trouble right in front of us first."

"..." Badheil watched in silence as Truman walked out of the Giant King's Court and left by "roaming."

Omebella was not here, and the Giant King had also rushed to another part of the Giant King's Court.

There, an illusory Gate of the Underworld had opened out of thin air. Pale flames swirled around it, and endless undead surged within, with a massive city vaguely visible inside.

And in the deepest darkness and death at the center of the city, there was a pair of bronze-colored eyes hiding layers upon layers of illusory doors.

The ancestor of phoenix, Gregali!

However, she did not trust the elves either, so she merely watched without taking action. She held a portion of the authority of the Door pathway; in terms of mobility, none of the ancient gods could do anything to her.

Thus, by simply watching, she already posed a massive deterrent to the giant race.

Both Almir and Omebella were held here by a single door from Gregali.

Meanwhile, outside a certain coastal city-state, Truman and Hermes stepped out from the void.

This was also a city-state ruled by the faith of the Creator, located at the boundary between the forces of the ancient sun god and the elf king.

"It seems this place still has maritime trade with the elf race?" Truman saw many merchant ships at sea, carrying coral and gemstones from the elves.

"What a pity." The foundation of this world was madness and chaos; the struggle between sequences had been set from the very beginning.

The ancient sun god would sooner or later take action against the elf king, and that would be a war between two races.

"Do you need me to gather the Beyonders from the various city-states?" Hermes asked.

"No need, that is a war between angels." Truman refused.

"...But we must be allowed to do something." Hermes was silent for a moment before saying firmly.

"Go organize the populace to hide in the ritual plaza at the center of the city!" Truman's mouth twitched, feeling somewhat helpless. Hermes's personality was actually quite good, but he was just too rigid and earnest in this regard.

"Yes!" Hermes walked into the city, and an invisible force rippled outward. A voice appeared in everyone's hearts.

"Leave this place. A natural disaster is coming." Hermes "persuaded" everyone with effortless ease.

Truman arrived at a large rock outside the city-state and sat down, preparing to meet the terrifying tsunami foretold in the prophecy.

It was a true natural disaster. He was certain he could protect himself and hold back his opponents, but he could not guarantee he could stop every single wave. If he failed, many people might die.

"Why are you here?" Truman suddenly saw a small head poke out from beneath a rock.

"..." The head immediately retracted.

"I see you." Truman glanced at the seawater, which had yet to show any signs of turbulence, then smiled and looked at the tiny figure hiding behind the rock.

"Come out. It's dangerous here. Hurry back into the city." Truman even used a soothing tone, coaxing the figure to step out from behind the rock.

A thin, frail figure—one could even say skin and bones—stepped out from behind the rock. Ragged burlap was draped haphazardly over his body, and his hair was dampened by the moisture in the air, sticking to his face.

He wasn't necessarily young; he was simply so malnourished that he appeared overly frail.

"You..." Truman frowned slightly. He pointed a finger, and dream phosphor descended, instantly replacing the boy's rags with a dark, somber robe.

The near-creation-like feat startled the boy, leaving him stunned as he stared blankly at Truman.

"Here, eat this." Truman manifested a piece of cake and handed it over.

He had once spread many things beyond this era throughout the dreamland, including the cooking methods for various foods.

Of course, this item could be considered "aristocratic" food; the boy had likely never encountered it before.

Under the temptation of the food, the boy snapped out of his daze. He stared intently at Truman's cake but dared not approach.

"Take it." Truman's demeanor became even gentler.

"..." In the end, it was Truman who pressed the cake into the boy's hands.

Ultimately, the temptation of food overcame the boy's wariness. He took a bite of the cake, as if his soul had been elevated. He didn't even dare to take a second bite, regretting that he had ruined such a perfect creation.

"Where are your parents? Where is your home?" Truman watched as the boy's guard crumbled under the influence of the cake and took the opportunity to ask; he needed to send the boy away.

"Drowned at sea." The boy looked up at Truman, then cautiously took a second bite.

"..." Truman fell silent. He stopped asking and instead flicked his fingers, performing a divination on the boy. He quickly received his answer.

"Parents drowned, sister died from a fall while risking her life to fish..."

"Home was seized, and he was driven out as a jinx, forbidden from entering the city..."

For some, simply staying alive was difficult, especially in this era ruled by ancient gods.

The dreamland was in a league of its own, even within the kingdom of the creator.

Truman sighed softly, preparing to send the boy away, when he suddenly looked down at the churning seawater beneath the boy's feet.

It seemed higher than just a moment ago; it had risen from covering his insteps to now submerging his ankles.

The ebb and flow of the seawater here reflected massive disturbances occurring at the far ends of the ocean.

His expression turned serious. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and teleported him directly to the side of Hermes.

As for himself, he turned to face the vast, boundless sea.

"It's here." Not long after, all the seawater surged backward, pulled away into the distance by some unseen force.

Above the sea, black clouds gathered thick and heavy, with thick serpents of lightning rolling within them. A gale whipped at Truman's robes.

Storms, tsunamis, and even earthquakes were about to descend; this was a "natural disaster."

Behind Truman, the twelve wings of the angel of dreams suddenly unfurled. In that instant, the angel wings expanded against the wind, growing until they slowly sheltered the entire city-state behind him beneath their plumage.

The dream phosphor enveloped the whole city, leaving the ordinary people—who had only ever seen or heard of miracles in scriptures or from the mouths of missionaries—utterly stunned.

"The creator is above!" Many believers fell directly to their knees, praying to the creator and to the angel of dreams.

The sound of devout prayers echoed across the ritual plaza, gradually rising like a tide.

In the face of miracles and disasters, people always become exceptionally pious.