"Bahamut, since when are you qualified to meddle in the affairs of the main plane?"
Faced with the question of the Life Goddess, the wounded Bahamut turned his body upright.
The huge gaping hole in his neck was slowly healing, and his right wing was slowly regenerating.
To a god, a normal superficial wound wouldn't be a fatal blow, no matter how bad it was.
This was a god being badly injured by a mortal, and whether he could recover or not, that was a humiliation in itself.
Bahamut gave Roland an irritated glance before looking at the eyes in the sky as he said matter-of-factly, "We, the Metal Dragons, have been the reconcilers of the world since our birth, a mission given to us by the entire world, whether this is the dragon's plane or the main plane, or any other plane."
"Then you should have balanced the Realm of Devils first, instead of messing with the main plane," the Life Goddess said mockingly.
