Mercury subconsciously tightened his grip on the replica staff hidden beneath the counter, the symbol of his identity as a messenger. His knuckles whitened slightly from the force.
He realized that gathering the gods might bring not only the power to fight the Apocalypse, but also other unexpected and far more dangerous "guests."
Wu Heng piloted the Ghost Ship, which traveled between reality and the gaps, and had already arrived at the Elysian Fields, which the gods regarded as a temporary refuge.
It was time to hunt.
Splash—!
This was not the sound of rain striking the windows, but a tangible, viscous tide.
A surge smashed through the reinforced oak door of the Elysian Fields Hotel's conference room.
Wood splinters burst inward as if from an explosion. A bone-chilling aura of coldness and death instantly flooded the entire room, suppressing the divine radiance emanating from the gods—warm, violent, or bizarre alike—until it dimmed to almost nothing.
Above the shadows, Wu Heng's figure quietly solidified.
He still wore a black trench coat, his expression calm, his face like frozen earth. Only in his eyes were reflected the faces of more than twenty terrified gods in the room, as though he were counting crops waiting to be harvested.
Amid their mutual silence, there was no declaration of war, no questioning, not even the slightest unnecessary pause.
The attack erupted from that silence!
A wave surged in and instantly engulfed three gods, submerging them within it. Transparent tentacles condensed inside the water.
The tentacles restraining the three gods transformed into bizarre devices. Metallic hues spread across them, turning into gears, chemical flasks, and various other apparatuses.
The three captured gods were actually being refined on the spot!
"Heretic! Blasphemer!"
Baldur, the God of Light, reacted first. Blazing radiance like a miniature sun erupted