"This voice... could it be the Evil God?!"
Leon's eyes widened as he turned to Miranda, disbelief etched across his face.
"The voice of the Evil God? Miranda, are you serious?" He inquired, his tone laced with horror.
His heart pounded as he clung to the hope that Miranda was mistaken. Yet reality often delivered harsher truths.
In response to his question, Miranda's wary eyes narrowed, and she gave a solemn nod.
"I'm not joking, Master. That voice was indeed the Evil God's," she replied gravely.
Though over 7,000 years had passed, that voice was unforgettable—a cold, arrogant tone that dismissed all existence as insignificant ants beneath him.
Leon exhaled deeply, forcing himself to remain composed as he shifted his gaze to the battlefield.
The faces of both human and Demon soldiers had turned deathly pale, reflecting their shared dread.
