But by now, there was no longer any possibility of a win-win outcome for either side.
The only possible result was either one side taking everything, or both sides losing! Hermes could not take it all, but he could make them both lose! Call it acting on impulse, call it losing his mind—whatever it was, he simply did not want to see the woman before him make any move!
Under his pressure, Principal Arte truly could not act. The gap between them was simply too great.
Even if Hermes was already a dried corpse in a tomb, a flickering candle in the wind, he was still not someone a human who had yet to forge a godhead could offend.
He had his own dignity and confidence.
"Why don't we sit down and have a proper talk?" Principal Arte calmed herself and spoke solemnly.
But Hermes merely sneered. There was no wind at the top of the tower, only light. Twelve colors.
Inside the tower, Dark slowly backed away step by step. He kept Shaymin behind him. Devimon did not move recklessly either. Hermes's statue advanced step by step.
It had no language system; when it opened its mouth, it could only let out a silent roar.
Its eyes were black and profound, as if black holes were hidden within them.
Its energy heart emitted a scorching red glow as it squeezed out its final shred of divine power.
There were no other thoughts left in its mind. Only one goal remained.
It extended its hand, black flames dancing in its palm.
It stared fixedly at Dark, killing intent spreading without restraint. The distance between them shrank step by step. At last, only three to five meters remained.
Though the statue should not have possessed a facial expression system, the black