To that energetic young god—
"A few hundred points? No way!"
He had fought tooth and nail just to earn 10 points—barely breaking into double digits—while Owen casually claimed he had racked up a triple-digit score. Wouldn't that make him look like a complete loser?
Impossible!
Absolutely impossible!
Besides, Owen had come out of the trial around the same time as he had. He himself had been killed almost instantly. Surely Owen was the same. There was no way he could've earned several hundred points.
Other nearby gods chimed in:
"If he really got a few hundred points, I'll be his damn dog!"
Owen glanced at them but didn't bother arguing. These were bottom-tier gods—after three full trials, most of them hadn't even broken double digits.
Trying to reason with them was like a chicken talking to a duck. Pointless.
After all these months, they hadn't even become 1-Star gods. Frankly, they were the scraps of society.
Talking to them was nothing but a waste of time.
