The next day, Russell hummed a tune as he returned home. He had spent the whole night looking up at the gods' battle, and his neck had gone stiff.
So when dawn came, he was lying down.
The three brothers on the star were still fighting. Each was tough as hide and exceptionally durable, and with their stamina talents maxed out, it felt like they would not stop without three to five days.
Russell could not be bothered to watch anymore. He estimated that by the end of the battle, Poseidon would be limping on one leg.
Sitting at home, only to have blame fall from the sky—but who could he blame? He could only blame himself. Who told him not to be there at the time?
Russell was in high spirits. Although the three gods were immensely powerful, all melee mages with strong attacks and thick health bars, each harder to deal with than the last, sending the difficulty of his mission soaring without limit.
Still, the fact that they drew weapons at the slightest disagreement showed that none of the three accepted the others. Hades and Poseidon refused to accept Zeus as king, while Zeus seized every opportunity to beat the two of them to death. Even polyethylene was more durable than the brotherly bond between them.
Russell had looked over the human side. They were basically impossible to carry, and forcing it would end like Prometheus.
But Prometheus had awareness, wisdom, and a spirit of sacrifice and devotion. Russell did not, so he considered infiltrating the enemy from within, provoking a war among the gods, and letting gods cripple one another.
The plan was highly feasible. Last night had proven it: with a small trick from him, the three brothers had immediately fought like rabid dogs.
The