"When will we get home?"
Leaning against the bed, looking at the book in his hands and feeling the great ship beneath him rise and fall gently with the waves, Romon felt slightly drowsy.
Several days had passed since he left the Royal Capital. On the journey there, pressed for time, he had traveled swiftly. On the return journey, however, he no longer had that same impatient state of mind, and the ship maintained a leisurely, unhurried pace.
He set the book aside and felt his head grow a little heavy.
This had been happening for some time since he left the Royal Capital.
He had been calculating things again.
The Elves had produced a True God. That matter gave him quite a headache.
He knew of the conflict between the Elves and humanity. The Elves had always been at war before, but because they had never possessed a True God of their own, humans had felt part fear, part vigilance, and part disdain toward them—much like how people on Earth felt about tigers.
Now, however, things were entirely different.
"Besides what happened last time, Far-Sail Port needs stronger defenses. Gold and Silver Island's defenses cannot be relaxed either." Romon tapped his forehead with a finger and muttered to himself.
After weighing the matter for a long time and resolving to preserve his strength, Romon still felt a sense of crisis.
Whether considering the safety of his territory or the upheaval in the future world order, the course the world was heading toward was far from promising.
Yet Romon's strength alone was still too feeble in the face of such a grand situation. Preventing it from happening was impossible. Just as with the outbreak of the Demon Calamity, all he could do was prepare for a rainy day.
Protect his