But—
Vig looked up at the carefree angel, only to see a blurred figure whose face he could not make out.
—He, or perhaps It, spun a gleaming gold coin around a finger, the coin turning at the fingertip as though weighing the value of everything...
It was an existence he had never seen before.
Among the gods, there was absolutely no silhouette like that.
But if It was not a god, then who could order a Winged Race member to come here?
The gnome leader only felt icy shards winding through his heart like vines, turning the organ that should have expanded and contracted into a frozen work of art.
"Winged freak!! Whose orders are you following to interfere with us?"
He demanded in a low voice, but the Winged Race woman merely sneered at the question.
"Little rat people, do you want to get information from me for free?"
That teasing expression gradually gave the gnome leader a look of realization.
A game?
That did make sense.
But would this woman really follow the usual rules of a game?
Vig looked at the woman and vaguely saw himself struggling to survive amid ocean currents—his instincts told him that if he accepted this game, he might be in for a very unpleasant match.
But that terrifying figure was right there. If he did not investigate, would something even worse than being held underwater happen next?
"If it's a game, then I'll play a round with you."
He strode toward Jibril, his mischievous face carrying an air of seriousness. He was clearly preparing to compete with Jibril.
"A game?"
Yet Jibril revealed a strange smile. Vig's heart suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of danger, but it was already too late.
—The Winged Race woman flapped her wings once, and