In an unknown place filled with endless white, an old man sat cross-legged with his eyes closed. However, it was clear that his expression was far from calm. His brows remained tightly furrowed, as if something continued to trouble him deeply.
As time passed, he suddenly gritted his teeth. Without warning, he slammed his palm onto the white ground in front of him.
"Damnit!" he cursed, his voice echoing across the vast white realm. If that strike were to fall upon a world, it would be enough to destroy it entirely.
That single slam revealed his frustration for unable to resolve the problem before him. A problem he could not understand, nor explain.
It had been so long since he last felt such a headache.
As one of the strongest gods, granted authority over one of the heavens in the universe his group had invaded, he should never have fallen into such a situation in the first place. Even if a problem did arise, it should have been something he could resolve with ease.
