Within the Void Realm, on one of the Rock Clan's Planes, an enormous warship had docked.
"Crash."
The warship's doors opened. More than a dozen warriors in gray armor flew out first, followed by a tall middle-aged man whose gaze carried a faint chill. Escorted by the gray-armored warriors, he entered a palace on the Plane.
"Marshal, you finally came!"
Inside the great hall, the Light God Lord let out a displeased snort. His formidable power nearly stirred up a Storm as it swept toward the mysterious "Marshal."
"Protect the Marshal!"
The dozen or so gray-armored warriors did not dare slacken. They immediately stepped forward, and their armor erupted with powerful force. Combining the strength of more than ten people, they barely blocked the attack.
However, this had merely been a casual strike from the Light God Lord, intended to express his displeasure. Yet seeing these gray-armored warriors withstand even his casual blow surprised him somewhat, and his gaze swept across them.
In the Rock Clan's and the Light God Lord's impressions, the Atlan People were utterly vulnerable once they left their warships or puppets, no different from ordinary people. Forget Supreme Existences—even the lowest-ranking Light Believers could easily kill them. But now, it seemed nothing like what he had imagined. Without the protection of warships and puppets, the Atlan People were not quite so weak as to topple in the wind; they still possessed some ability to protect themselves.
"Hmph, didn't you say you had everything sewn up? But now? How did things end up like this?"
The Light God Lord seemed utterly unable to see his own "mistakes," and instead blamed the Atlan Civilization.
However, the mysterious Marshal remained impassive. He said calmly, "Light God Lord, this plan had originally been foolproof, and we did indeed blast Santo