"The war had already begun. They really moved fast!"
Romon, dressed in full attire, stood before a window on the top floor of the ancient castle. His gaze was deep as he looked out at the world beyond, yet his eyes did not linger anywhere.
Instead, they drifted through the void, constantly shifting from place to place. At this moment, he was contemplating something—something very interesting.
"Interesting. I truly hadn't expected this matter to proceed so smoothly." Romon habitually stroked his chin, where a layer of short, sturdy beard had grown.
He had now received the news he wanted: Ilusen Fief's god had left Ilusen Fief.
For Romon, no news could have made him sigh more than this one.
It was like someone who had been striving to begin assembling a puzzle, only to discover that the puzzle he wanted to put together was so simple that he could reach the result without any effort. That made Romon faintly excited.
"What exactly do these so-called gods have in their heads? A mere trick of luring the tiger from the mountain, and they fell for it so easily?"
Romon sneered at such beings.
Perhaps the rules passed down for thousands of years had made them somewhat dull-witted.
And their strength was not particularly high either. They did not even count as Demigods; they could only be called Divine Beings.
Yet they insisted on gilding their own faces, calling themselves a group of gods. Romon found it truly laughable.
Of course, the most important point was that most of them had received their Divinity from Altars, and before their deaths, they had not been remarkable figures. Their own skills and knowledge were pitifully lacking.
They were both Divine Beings, but with Romon's Saint Druid abilities combined with Divinity, it would not be