In the midst of the chaos, only Mo Ren Di, at the very center of the vortex, truly understood the gravity of the situation.
All around Ares lay a shattered land; that sword of his had cleaved something, and magma surged from the ground beneath, emanating a searing heat at his feet.
The high-temperature magma reflected a slight redness on Ares's indifferent face. He exhaled deeply, staring into the distance.
Mo Ren Di, protected by a spiral force akin to a drill, emerged from the earth.
With a flick of his long sleeves, he shook off the dust; one of Mo Ren Di's arms hung limply, blood gushing like a spring, flowing down the tattered sleeve.
Ares, with a quick stride, crossed the continent, arriving not far from Mo Ren Di.
From above, looking down upon the world, Ares sighed and shook his head, "Not bad, pity you're no god."
Mo Ren Di's face was somber, yet he bared his teeth in a grin, "Being a god isn't all that great."
