In the Fictional Church.
"Hmm, hmm, hmm ah ah—"
The collective stench-filled cry had only just started when it was mercilessly silenced, and after Miss Malt snapped her fingers, beneath each of the Ancient War Gods' armor twisted expressions emerged as they couldn't vent the pain in their hearts.
And they saw that there were several others...no, several gods next to Miss Malt.
That classic line drawing, unquestionably, was the God of Fiction;
The little white-haired girl wearing a cap was the God of Coloring, who had revealed her identity as a painter early on;
A bishop in red robes, oh, was that the newly risen God of Conquest Reva?
An old man in a purple robe with a white beard...darn it, isn't that the God of Time!
And that golden-haired young man wearing a top hat...that's the God of Death?! The little brat is now wearing an expression of sheer ecstasy. And when did he come back to this church?
