The Goddess of Doom didn't kill them.
That wasn't her goal.
No, she simply didn't care enough to kill them. She never had. Neither was she willing to hear them out or make deals.
Damon laughed at the irony, the sound hollow even to his own ears.
How foolish had he been to think the goddess would listen?
He knew she wouldn't.
After all, she was an indifferent goddess. She allowed endless suffering beneath her gaze. Why would she suddenly care now?
That was the truth.
Gods did not care about mortals.
If they did, they were weak.
And if they weren't weak, they were cruel.
Why else would they allow suffering? Why else would they perpetuate it themselves?
Damon slowly raised his head and found the Blind Old Daoist standing nearby, his weathered face turned toward them.
"Well?" the old man asked, taking a step forward. "Did you spread the word? Who did you see? Who did you meet? They have to know what the Unknown God is up to. What he's planning."
