Jiggorrhax soared brashly across the air, the strings of time caught in his teeth continuing to grow past the length of his body. Grim continued to mass produce them as though they were cheap noodles. He didn't show it, but it took a heavy toll on him. Worse yet, it was unclear how much string he'd need to release both drapes of time grafted onto the present Aigas.
But before he could even worry about that problem…
The Herald and the King sank into a drape of Aigas' time fixed from the peaks of the Second Grand War. Their work began on the inside.
"Was that really Grim?" Skullius asked Suzamete, baffled.
The Deitess scoffed.
