His twenty-foot-tall true form shot to its feet, blue and white electricity crackling over his knotted muscles.
A lightning-shaped Divine Pattern between his eyebrows blazed, piercing the barrier of his Divine Country and locking onto the alluring golden light in the ice valley.
"The Divine Formats of those Weak Gods from the West Field... shattered? A fine gift for me, indeed!"
Tatus let out a low laugh that sounded like rolling thunder.
A hundred thoughts raced through his mind, but in the end, greed overcame his doubts.
It was strange for a shattered Divine Format to fly thousands of miles and fall into the Northern Plains, but news of rampant god-hunting in the Wilderness West Field had long since spread.
He preferred to believe that some dying lesser god had detonated their Divine Format, and the fragments had just happened to be swept here by turbulent currents.
