The countless booms that echoed in the wake of Atticus' barrage seemed to intensify the silence that gripped the gods.
In the Willhall, along with most parts of the Middle Plane, wills were the most dominant force. When one's will overpowered another, there was nothing anyone could do about it. The victor had been decided.
A loud clap cut through the barrage.
"I believe the winner has been decided!"
All eyes turned toward the furry creature presiding over the battle. It looked at Atticus with an excited glint in its large eyes.
Atticus stopped his rain of punches and turned toward the furry creature.
"What an interesting battle! Very beautiful. Sadly, it's come to an end. The winner: God Atticus Ravenstein!"
No one cheered. Not a single god. None even tried to whisper.
To whisper was to have some sort of inkling into what they had just witnessed. But no matter how they thought, no one could come up with any assumption.
