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... materasu.

All people in the world, friend or foe, have all quieted down.

One by one stared at each other, unable to say anything.

The scene in front of me was too shocking, it was simply unbelievable.

A mortal, the son of Daxia, actually pierced the chest of a god?

In the eyes of everyone, even in the hearts of Daxia's own people, this is impossible.

Because the gods are too transcendent.

Beyond the level of mortals, it already belongs to a ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

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Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

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