676
"My heavens." Amon took a sip of his drink. "How exciting."
He wandered through the backwaters of the Northern Continent, occasionally looking up to check on the war of the gods in the Astral World and Spirit World above. From a purely spectator's perspective, this divine battle was a spectacular display of brute force, rampant chaos, and one extraordinary phenomenon after another.
The sky was pitch-black. It was not yet six in the evening, and there was no one on the streets, so the gas streetlamps in this small city had not come on as scheduled either. Amon strolled along the street, holding a freshly squeezed fruit drink he had swiped from a shop. Though his face and clothes were impossible to make out, the monocle over his right eye could be seen gleaming, reflecting a hint of the smile that perpetually hung about his lips.
When Leodero suddenly struck, killing Herabergen and becoming a dual-pathway true god, Amon greeted the traitors' infighting with a sneer;
When the God of Combat and Death acted to protect themselves and to make an impression on the so-called Creator, Amon's sneer turned mocking;
When Medici and the God of Steam and Machinery confronted the Primordial Demoness and the Hidden Sage for Intis's sake, Amon felt a little like laughing, then no longer wanted to. He thought he was probably somewhat fed up. From the stances taken in this war of the gods to their conduct, Amon found all of it tiresome and dull.
It seemed things had always been this way, and all Beyonders were the same. They, whether mortal or divine, pursued those ahead of them one after another, but not for those much-praised convictions and ideals. They wanted to kill those ahead of them and climb higher themselves.
And this