There was a silence left in the wake of the strange man's words, where Azriel and Xian Feng kept their lips shut, dozens of thoughts racing through their minds.
Only after a moment did Azriel pick up on one of the words the man had spoken in that strange, archaic manner of his.
'Child wrought of mine own flesh... wait, does that mean…?'
Azriel's eyes widened once again, his heart pounding wildly.
He wasn't sure how much more his poor heart could take today.
"God of Time..."
Xian Feng muttered beside Azriel. His voice was low, but Azriel couldn't decipher the emotion behind it—his face was as blank and composed as a masterfully painted portrait.
'First the God of Death, and now the God of Time…'
Only this time, he could see the god. If that was truly how the God of Time appeared.
Which Azriel doubted.
If he were truly gazing upon the God of Time in his full glory, his mind would have shattered already.
