Milia's voice sounded very anxious, and everyone understood this. I am now starting to get a headache about how to arrange the Mobra civilization, as it was obvious that they had remotely witnessed a shockingly futuristic science fiction war film over the past few hours—albeit with a delay of several minutes. Those unfortunate natives were initially prepared with flowers, fruit, livestock, and firecrackers at their doorsteps, ready to welcome the return of the Holy Sage, but instead, they ended up witnessing God and Jesus hurling bricks at each other in the sky. From this, one could imagine just how chaotic it must be now on the planet Mobra. Conservatively, it must be much noisier than the bustling eighteen-mile dog market.
"Milia, I'm listening."
