With impassioned and fervent words, the massive figure stood tall and proud, as if he were a hero nobly heading to his death.
Yet as the opponent closed his eyes, his face rigid, his drooping hands trembling slightly, and his body occasionally twitching from pain, the image did not at all resemble a generous march to death.
Indeed, there wasn't even a hint of momentum.
It was like a quail, crouched in a broken eggshell, wanting to peek its head out to see the world but too afraid to do so, a picture of timidity.
Jason grew more convinced that this massive figure had its nest taken over by another bird.
He had never seen a real 'Deity'.
But if a real 'Deity' was just like this... it was too disappointing.
Or rather, it was a disservice to the 'deliciousness' that exuded from the body!
After all, 'deliciousness' and strength are directly proportional!
