Saint Somaz still could not accept the scene before him.
He stared fixedly at the shattered chains on the ground, restraint chains thicker than ship masts, now smashed one after another across the rocky earth.
Saint Somaz kept shaking his head, cracks appearing in his arrogance.
"Fake?"
"How is that possible..."
Loki carried the giant hammer on his shoulder and looked down at him.
He gripped the handle with one hand, the hammerhead hanging lightly at his side, yet making the entire ground tremble faintly.
He broke into a grin.
"Because you're idiots..."
Saint Somaz's expression froze.
Loki slowly rolled his neck, broken chains sliding from his shoulders.
Clatter.
Clatter.
"You really thought these things had me trapped?"
Saint Qilin Gomu's expression darkened. At last, he understood what had been wrong.
From the moment they arrived at Orsto Castle.
Those two Giant guards had been too cooperative, the road to the Underworld had gone too smoothly, and Loki had been far too quiet.
It had not been because of the Holy Land's authority, but because Elbaf had known they were coming long ago.
Loki had even been waiting for them here.
Saint Somaz forcibly suppressed the flash of panic in his heart. He lifted his chin again, his voice icy.
"He merely broke free of his restraints. Do you think that changes anything?"
"You're facing God's Knights, eight hundred years of World Government rule."
"The true order of these seas!"
Loki tilted his head.
"Eight hundred years?"
As though he had heard some novel phrase, his smile gradually widened.
"So what?"
"Is eight hundred years supposed to be impressive?"
Saint Somaz's gaze turned abruptly cold.
"What?!"
Loki grinned. "Our Giant Tribe has existed far longer than your throne."
As those words fell, the depths of the Underworld suddenly went still.