God Goldeen's eyes flashed with murderous intent, unable to stop the beating of his heart. He was wondering why Falkor wasn't here, it turned out he left first… He really had underestimated True Gods. The amount of luck attached to them was unimaginable, how could they die here at his whim? He was nothing but a dancing clown.
There was only a one-word difference between his title and theirs, but it was akin to an endless chasm he could never hope to bridge!
Dyon smiled lightly as he quickly circulated Holy Type energy, quickly healing himself. It seemed he wasn't the only one in this generation with trump cards. No wonder they dared to come in without protectors.
With a thought, seven spatial rings appeared in Dyon's hands. Unlike what others thought, he didn't have a massive clan backing him, so how could he let the fortuitous encounters of seven peak celestials go?
