Kallen withdrew his hand and smiled at Gaspol. "This will definitely be a healthy child."
"Thank you." A gentle smile appeared on Gaspol's face. She reached out to stroke her belly, a maternal radiance suffusing her at that moment.
Unfortunately, Kallen was in no mood to praise or appreciate it. He was still turning over the words he had heard earlier in his mind.
As Marchetini's Inheritance Heir, Mavario's offspring were indeed more likely to inherit some special abilities. Anything touched by divinity was prone to unexpected changes.
If it was controllable, or temporarily controllable, it was called a god's blessing; otherwise, it was a god's pollution.
In essence, they were the same.
Although Mavario's child had yet to be born, judging from the fragments of consciousness Kallen had caught earlier, there was bound to be some kind of problem with this child.
This problem could not simply be explained as inheriting his father's bloodline, because Mavario's inheritance consisted of memories, experience, and certain special abilities. Yet the consciousness this child carried, though extremely faint, was unmistakably expressing the "present."
One could even infer from this that the child's level of inheritance surpassed that of his father, Mavario.
What did that make them, a conjugate father and son?
It gave Kallen an indescribable sense of revulsion.
The return of the gods did not mean a group of individually powerful and terrifying beings returning to this world through some Teleportation Magic Formation.
Their return was like a bottle of ink spilled over a book, its color seeping through layer after layer.
Now, they were already infiltrating every opening.
There were no moral restraints, no restrictions of rules, nothing you understood to be a matter of course.
They were not enemies, because deities could not be distinguished as tangible or intangible. The