"Is there no other way?" Martial, the Beast God sighed, "Honestly, I'm not confident in fighting Compass. This world is his."
"He has the home advantage here."
"Even after so long, your indecisiveness as a Genre Representative hasn't vanished." Arnark snorted, "Well, I guess it makes sense. That's how you've been for millions of years. I can't expect you to change overnight. But still,"
He slapped Martial, "Grow a pair, will you?"
"You're no longer a Genre Representative."
"Enough!" Martial glared at Arnark, offended by the slap, "I'll kill you!"
"Sure, give it a try." Arnark coolly spoke as he stood right before Martial, "I'm within your reach. All you need to do is raise your hand and you'll touch me. Go on, do it."
