The crater smoked where the patron god had been slammed into the white stone.
Dust and divine fragments still drifted upward.
Aestrea stood at the edge of the impact zone, his long black hair swaying gently around his shoulders, with his blood-red vertical slits glowing dangerously.
The mysterious black energy continued to radiate from his body, in slow pulses warping the air itself.
"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHHH!"
From the depths of the crater, a furious growl rose.
Valthor, the patron god who had been slammed against the ground, pushed himself up, his whole body trembling with unrestrained fury.
He was two times Aestrea's height, with robes condensed stellar light billowing wildly.
"You insignificant worm!" he shouted coldly, filled with rage, his voice shaking the entire arena.
"I am Valthor, Second of the Council! How dare you lay your filthy hands on me?!"
Three distinct auras exploded outward from him at once.
