Chapter 1164 Zorian, The God Of the Sun.
The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight touched the sky, Michael reached his chosen sniper nest. Nestled high in the dense foliage of a tall tree, he settled into position, taking out his crossbow crafted from the ancient centipede's collarbone. With the crossbow in hand, he kept a vigilant watch on the gala entrance.
Below, the area outside the dome had been transformed. A red carpet rolled out, flanked by vibrant flowers and elaborate decorations, all set to welcome the gods to the gala. The scene was a spectacular display of celestial grandeur.
From his vantage point, Michael noticed a blue-haired goddess leading a procession of angels clad in pink armor.
"She might be Fortuna," Michael surmised, observing her demeanor and the respect she commanded.
Through the scope of his crossbow, Michael scanned the arriving gods. Each god presented a unique aura, their divine presence unmistakable. He relayed his observations to Ayag, Sarba, and Pink, who were comfortably perched on his shoulder.
"Fortuna has just arrived, leading her angels. The gods are beginning to gather," he reported quietly, his eyes never leaving the scope.
"This is it, then. The stage is set," Ayag said, her tone a mix of anticipation and tension.
"Keep a sharp eye out for Rainar. He won't be far behind." Sarba added.
Through the crossbow's scope, Michael's attention was drawn to several notable figures. He spotted a charismatic god with mismatched eyes, one green and one blue, whom he had seen the night before but didn't know by name. Nearby, the god clad in dark robes caught his eye again, along with Seshat, who stood out with her calm, scholarly demeanor.
"Why are all these gods getting welcomed again? Weren't they already inside the dome, having their fun? What's with this whole welcome parade?" Ayag voiced her confusion.
Michael let out a light chuckle, finding humor in Ayag's observation.
"This is the official start of the gala. It seems like gods are no different than rich nobles when it comes to such events. They enjoy the grandeur and ceremony just as much," he remarked, amused by the similarities between gods and mortal customs.
As he watched, Pink's voice crackled through the communication device, her excitement palpable.
"I've just found a book with details of the gods. Describe them to me, and I'll try to identify who they are," she said, the sound of rustling pages accompanying her words. n(-OVelbIn
Hearing her, Michael adjusted his scope, focusing on each god.
"There's one here with a crown resembling a fox and eyes of different colors," he reported, observing the god's playful demeanor.
"That's Lathander, the God of Mischief, known for his whimsy and trickery," Pink quickly responded, her fingers skimming through the pages of the book.
Shifting his attention, Michael described another figure. "And there's a god in dark robes, emanating a sense of decay."
"That would be Morbus, the God of Plagues. He's often depicted in dark attire," Pink clarified, her tone taking on a slight edge.
Michael then spotted a majestic figure. "Here's one wearing golden armor, with a golden halo radiating around him."
"That must be Valorius, the God of Valor," Pink identified. "His presence is often associated with heroism and bravery."
Michael continued, "I also see a goddess with flowers in her hair, radiating life."
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