"Ah, Monkyspanner, it's you."

Chaa—the platinum armor turned its head to look at Monkyspanner. The movement was as smooth and natural as that of a living creature.

Just from that alone, one could tell how extraordinary the magic imbued in this armor was.

When one thinks of animated armor, the monster known as a "Living Armor" usually comes to mind. But this was on a completely different level.

A portion of its consciousness, a fragment of its soul, had been infused into it, allowing it to transmit visual, auditory, and even empathic senses in real time—even to the point of synchronization.

And in this entire world, only the Platinum Dragon Lord, Tsaindoruks Vaision, could perform such a feat.

Monkyspanner approached casually and knocked on the helmet of the platinum armor with ease.

Though the armor had a built-in sound-nullifying spell, when Monkyspanner tapped it, the clanking echoed like he was banging on a metal can. It was the effect of Great Invalidation—nullifying all magical effects.

"It's been a while, hasn't it? Has it really been ten years since I last visited?"

"Ah, I believe it's been about that long. That alcohol you brought with you last time—I drank it well. It was quite delicious. It had been decades since I consumed anything beyond necessity, and it reminded me of a long-forgotten sensation."

"Well, that's what happens when you hole yourself up for hundreds of years. Stay in one place too long and your senses start going dull. You should get out more—have some fun, you know?"

"Unfortunately, that's not something I can do. I have a duty to guard the seal on the Sky Fortress. It's a responsibility given to me as a Dragon Lord—something I cannot entrust to just anyone."

"Well, yeah… tch, you're right. Can't just hand that kind of thing over to anyone. I get it, I get it. Poor guy."

Clicking his tongue, Monkyspanner gave the platinum armor a look of sympathy. A soft chuckle came from within the seams of the armor.

"Hm? What's funny?"

"Haha, I never thought I'd be pitied. In all the centuries I've lived, I've never once been pitied by another."

Tsaindoruks found himself unexpectedly amused. He was the Platinum Dragon Lord, hailed as one of the strongest beings in the world—and yet these people were probably the only ones who could look him in the eye and offer sympathy without flinching.

"What? You don't like it? Want me to apologize?"

"No need. You all have treated me as an equal, and I've done the same. There's no need to apologize. Besides, even I have moments where I lament my situation."

To be seen as an equal meant being someone who, while fearsome as an enemy, could also be a friend if communication was possible.

Tsaindoruks had confirmed that through them.

Though they had fallen from Yggdrasil, a power that tainted this world, they were not like the Eight Greed Kings. If anything, they resembled the Six Great Gods who had once brought prosperity to humanity six hundred years ago.

The players among the Thirteen Heroes who helped defeat the remnants of the Evil Deities two hundred years ago were far weaker by comparison—hardly worth mentioning. And now, even those players had been absorbed into Shinshi. Tsaindoruks did not regret it.

The beings of Yggdrasil should be with others like themselves. At first, there had been plans to leave behind many descendants of players in this world to raise the overall power level. But after seeing these people, that plan was scrapped.

No matter how many minor copies are produced, they can never compare to the real thing.

For hundreds of years, the Slane Theocracy had tried desperately to secure the descendants of what they called "God-Kin" players, but only a handful had turned out to be usable forces.

And even those were nothing compared to these beings—and acquiring them had required enormous luck and time.

Even if they were from Yggdrasil, they were still, at their core, living beings. 'Surshana' was an exception, but even he, in that form, still acted and thought like a living being. In other words, aside from the powers they possessed, they weren't much different from the countless beings living on this continent.

Their way of thinking may be alien, but they are still people—not necessarily beings that always pollute or destroy the world. The Six Great Gods were like that, and so were the Thirteen Heroes.

The shock brought by the Eight Greed Kings had been so great that Tsaindoruks admitted he may have been too obsessive in his thinking.

In fact, that player had fallen into despair after slaying another player during the Evil Deities subjugation—but after coming to Shinshi, he had gradually recovered.

Lost in thought, Tsaindoruks didn't notice Monkyspanner casually slinging an arm over the shoulder of the armor, frowning as he noticed dents and tears in various spots.

"Hey… What's with this armor? It looks like it's been through hell. Did you fall off the Sky Fortress while goofing around or something?"

"Oh, this? I've been traveling the continent in this form recently, and I happened to get into a fight. Took quite a bit of damage in that battle. It's still not fully repaired. But I don't have any other way to move around outside, so I had no choice but to show up in this sorry state. My apologies if I've caused any offense."

"Huh? Even if it's not your true body, Chaa, you're telling me there's someone out there who could actually fight you in that armor?"

Monkyspanner frowned slightly. He knew very well how powerful the Platinum Dragon Lord was—after all, he had occasionally "played" with him during visits.

Perhaps in the outside world, he could be called the strongest? He could even go toe-to-toe with the battle-specialized Divine Officials, which was likely why they acknowledged Chaa in the first place.

"Hmm... I was planning to bring that up at today's meeting. I know you're the one who called for it, but I had also asked Drake several times recently if a meeting could be held. I think it's probably closely related to your purpose as well."

"Yeah? Then let's head down now. Maybe the others are already waiting?"

"Probably not. The four permanent members seem to be waiting, but Drake said the other Divine Officials are finishing up tasks on the upper floors before coming down."

"Then we should wait a bit. Not like we've got anything better to do—and it's better to go together than to head down and just sit there. What about you, Chaa?"

"Hmm... I agree. I'd rather not stay down there too long anyway."

The platinum armor shook its head, and Monkyspanner let out a snort of laughter.

"What, you're still scared?"

"Umm... sorry. I'm not one of your citizens, and I don't follow your god's faith, so I just can't get used to it. Honestly, it's amazing to me how you all can stay there looking so happy."

"Hmm, I, the great Monkyspanner, will generously forgive that comment—but if Drake had heard it, he might've dragged you straight to the combat training grounds for blasphemy."

As Monkyspanner's expression darkened, Tsaindoruks let out a soft laugh and took a step back.

Indeed, his words had been a bit risky. Even after observing their blind devotion to God for over 150 years, he had still made such a slip. He needed to reflect on that.

"My apologies."

"Eh, it's fine. Anyway, I'm heading out to grab some food. I've been outside so long, I've almost forgotten what my house in the special residential zone looks like. Looks like we've got some time before the others arrive, so I'm off."

Normally, Monkyspanner would've asked, "Wanna come with me?" with a cheerful grin—but today, he just walked off with a flick of his coat.

Tsaindoruks absentmindedly scratched the side of his helmet with the platinum armor's fingers. Yes, he really needed to reflect.

For someone several centuries old, such a mistake was embarrassing. Thankfully, Monkyspanner was relatively mild-mannered—if it had been Drake, he might've smashed the armor halfway to scrap.

"Hah... well, I suppose I should count myself lucky."

Tsaindoruks sighed.

It had already been 150 years. Yes—150 years since their ties had begun, and yet he still couldn't understand them.

It wasn't just the difference between Yggdrasil and this otherworld—it was that he simply could not comprehend them.

He had once met a player from the Thirteen Heroes. From them, he'd learned that they weren't beings from Yggdrasil, but rather, that Yggdrasil itself was a fictional construct—something from a world that had created it.

Thanks to that, Tsaindoruks had acquired a certain degree of common knowledge about this world. But even with that, this city seemed fundamentally contradictory to him. It was similar in some ways to the "hometown" the Thirteen Heroes described—but also vastly different.

Though the citizens were oppressed by strict control and religious dogma, within that limited framework, they were granted virtually infinite freedom.

In contrast, most humans in the outer world—"outside," as they called it—likely didn't even enjoy a fraction of that liberty.

They suppressed the fundamental instincts of humans but allowed unrestricted freedom in everything else... was this what life in Yggdrasil had been like?

Tsaindoruks had met players who'd fallen into this world, including the Eight Greed Kings, the Thirteen Heroes, and others. From them, he understood that there were significant differences between their "hometown" and Yggdrasil.

Which is why he had never been able to get a complete picture of daily life in Yggdrasil.

In that sense, the lifestyle of those who fell into this world as a large group was incredibly valuable data.

And these people were strong.

If the Platinum Dragon Lord had done anything in his life worth patting himself on the back for, it would be this—reaching out and initiating conversation with them first.

That alone was a worthy deed. The world should be thankful to him for that—it was truly a valuable act.

They were strong. Incredibly strong. In terms of sheer force, they were a far greater threat than the Eight Greed Kings who once endangered the world.

Though the Eight Greed Kings also descended into this world with their loyal vassals, their scale didn't even come close to this group.

If we set the standard of "World's Strongest" at 100, then there were at least fifteen individuals among them who hit that 100 mark.

Dozens more hovered just below. Hundreds more landed in the 60–70 range. And even the general population, the "civilians," were mostly over 50—with children still in education easily surpassing 30.

It was absurd—beyond comprehension. The average "hero" among humans was estimated to be around level 30. His own friend, Rigrit—once counted among the Thirteen Heroes—had taken 250 years to reach around level 50.

Yet here, even the idle, unemployed types with nothing better to do were above level 50.

That there were not hundreds, but thousands of such beings—when Tsaindoruks first learned this truth, he couldn't help but let out a hollow laugh. This was far beyond excessive.

This world had already long surpassed what it could handle. Even if the Dragon Kings were to unite, the outcome wouldn't change. They might be able to inflict damage, but complete annihilation? Impossible.

Far too many Dragon Kings were lost during the subjugation of the Eight Greed Kings. With their current strength, it was unfeasible.

Thankfully, these beings seemed to prefer living among themselves. They had no interest in invading or conquering the outside world. Their primary concern was the God they served. Everything else was of little importance to them.

It did irritate him somewhat that they treated this world like garbage, but if that indifference meant they'd leave it alone, he welcomed it.

And when it came to those they acknowledged—be it himself or others with worthy strength—they showed due respect and proper treatment.

In that regard, he held them in high regard. At least they weren't entirely closed off.

'But I still can't let my guard down.'

They were trustworthy.

But the God they worshipped... that, he could not help but remain skeptical of.

These people fell into this world two hundred years ago.

Even considering the hibernation cycles of dragons, that would be only a few years—decades at most.

Yet this God of theirs had been asleep for centuries. At this point, the very existence of that being became questionable.

But Tsaindoruks knew—their God was real.

He hadn't seen the entity directly, but through earnest prayers and their careful arrangements, he was permitted to approach beyond a door... and feel a fragment of its presence.

Even without witnessing it directly, Tsaindoruks felt a surge of instinctual terror through the armor. It was overwhelming.

That being was a catastrophe.

It was a power that should not exist.

It was a presence that must never step outside.

If it slumbered, then it must never awaken. It was, in the truest sense of the word, a calamity.

The so-called "Dragon Kings of Destruction"? A joke by comparison. The true harbinger of annihilation resided there.

Tsaindoruks had felt only a sliver of the aura seeping through the heavily layered magical seals on that door, conveyed to him through his armor from a great distance—and yet, he'd leapt to his feet without realizing it.

The terror and chill had caused every scale on his body to bristle. He had never felt such pressure even from his father, the Dragon Emperor. It didn't feel like an individual being, but rather as if an entire world was coiled in one place. The fear was so immense he had nearly lost his mind and committed an unforgivable mistake.

It was a fear unlike anything he'd experienced, not even when fighting against the Eight Greed Kings. A true embodiment of dread was sealed within that place. If it had been asleep for 200 years, he prayed it would remain so until the end of the world.

The fear left behind from that moment was seared into his memory. Even now, it shook him. It was that lingering fear that caused him to slip up in his conversation with Monkyspanner. Just thinking about that existence made his thoughts spiral into chaos.

And it wasn't just the power of this God that posed a problem.

If this God were to awaken... and if it decided to rule this world as the Eight Greed Kings once attempted to... then these currently docile beings would obey without question.

He knew this from experience.

The vassals of players were absolutely loyal to their masters.

That loyalty would not falter, even after experiencing death multiple times.

While the later generations might not display such unshakable loyalty, the first ones who fell into this world were already more than enough of a threat.

That was why Tsaindoruks, whenever he interacted with them, always maintained a friendly demeanor—but deep down, it felt like he was walking a tightrope.

Currently, these beings were completely harmless to this world—in fact, in some ways, they were even beneficial. But if the worst were to happen—if their God awakened—they could easily become an unimaginable disaster.

Tsaindoruks was both terrified... and grateful... that he stood on the front lines of that possibility.