The next day.
[862-11-Thunder Pool], No. 7 Abyss City.
A hazy rain descended from the sky, with occasional flashes of lightning streaks between the gloomy clouds.
Under a semi-withered and semi-flourishing tree of an unknown species, Zeus sat silently on a roughly hewn stone bench.
Intermittently, frenzied breaths rose from the corners of this primitive city, only to be forcefully suppressed again.
Only thin wisps of the scent of blood lingered in the air, soon purified by the rain, enabling other demons who barely controlled themselves to maintain their last restraints.
Such a situation had persisted for two days now—of course, this was calculated according to the time of the material world.
For there was no cycle of the sun and the moon in the Thunder Pool, only the perpetually gloomy sky and occasional flashes of thunder.
Silently observing this demon city built around the Abyss Gate, feeling the unrelenting space-time shackles of this interface, Zeus's mood grew heavier.
