"Even if it were someone else, having the same conditions as Ahtal," the dwarf in black armor exhaled a puff of smoke.
"It's likely they could've done the same thing."
"Really?" The dwarf loli nodded, but she felt there was something off and yet couldn't quite put her finger on it.
From the analysis afterward, Ahtal's deeds had too many coincidental factors. If the person captured by the God of Blood hadn't been Michael, Mist wouldn't have had such a strong ally. If the God of Blood hadn't been severely injured by the Witch of Death, if Ahtal didn't have the eight-legged divine steed.
It would've been impossible to achieve the miracle of warring against a god.
"Don't think too much, you couldn't beat Ahtal anyway," the dwarf in black armor lifted his hand and patted the dwarf loli's head.
In her dissatisfied expression, he laughed:
"If everything goes according to plan, this world will soon burn to ashes, everyone will die, and these grudges will no longer matter."
