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At the very moment Sefira was facing the greatest crisis of their life, Keter was juggling with the Malignant Gods.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Clang…
Just as he was getting into the rhythm, one of the orbs containing the Malignant Gods slipped from his grasp.
Thud!
Rather than worrying that it might shatter, Keter casually kicked it. The orb didn’t travel far, simply returning to its original position as if nothing had happened.
Keter frowned in disappointment.
“Seriously. This is so boring,” he muttered.
An hour—only an hour had passed, and already Keter felt restless.
“That’s weird. When I was locked in prison for a whole month before, I was fine.”
When he was young, he had endured a month in a foul-smelling prison, starving and suffering. So he figured a single day would be nothing, but the sense of rejection was stronger than he had expected.
After thinking, Keter snapped his fingers.
“Back then, someone shoved me in there against my will, so it was kind of fun. This time, I came in voluntarily.”
There was also a big difference between resting by choice and being forced to stay still.
“Watching other people work while you relax is entertaining, but staying...
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