"You can kill me and it would not matter. This world still belongs to the High God of Aurora."
Sigrel's face was iron. He secretly forced every drop of power from his god-seed and went on, "You think you are strong, but to the supremes in the galactic deep you are a mote of dust."
"So what."
Within the colossal avatar, Orson's white hair whipped in the wind. His eyes were still cold, sharp as a knife.
"Join us, Orson."
Sigrel stared up at the grim giant of god-seed steel. His soul fought not to shiver. He ground out, "As soon as we find the prophesied woman, there will be no limit to the number of gods beneath the High God."
Orson arched a brow and motioned for him to continue.
Sigrel drew a long breath. "Then the divine domains will merge into the World of Divine Grace. That is the true divine realm, a sacred soil that can constantly birth god-tier powerhouses."
"The World of Divine Grace."
