"But why?"
Ash wasn't asking Starry Sky, but the Drama Poet. "Why would you let Starry Sky threaten you and willingly step into a cage to be tortured? Aren't you The Eighth?"
It was only natural that Starry Sky would use countless lives to threaten the Drama Poet by any means necessary. She was a monster draped in starlight to begin with. The question was, why had the Drama Poet taken the bait?
"I don't think I've ever said I was The Eighth, have I?"
Ash and Starry Sky both looked astonished. In their eyes, the mysterious and unfathomable Drama Poet was absolutely a special existence above all living beings, on the same rank as the Source Angel, perhaps even more terrifying than the Source Angel—the Source Angel could fall into traps, could be injured, and had always remained on Ruby Mountain. She merely commanded every spell in the world, the theoretically strongest artificer, a kind of strength that could at least be understood. But not only could the Drama Poet wander all over the world, although he would not harm anyone, no one could harm him either. He was equivalent to a target that "could not be selected."
Forget injuring him or catching him—as long as he wanted, even if he stood right in front of you, you wouldn't notice him!
For an existence so far beyond the norm, who else could he be besides the predecessor of the Five Pillar Gods, the source of the Void Realm, the first created lives, the "Eight"?
"Actually, it's pretty awkward for me. You calling me The Eighth is like Dad calling grandson grandfather."
Though he said that, there wasn't the slightest trace of awkwardness on the Drama Poet's face. "Actually, your previous guess that The Eighth was the World-Devouring Serpent wasn't