The chilling wind swept into the charred wreckage, and Zeus leaned against the side. His steps were unsteady, and after a few paces, he collapsed.
His hand seemed to have touched something. He strained to see what lay beneath him—a charred piece of bone that would crumble completely with a little force. If Zeus was right, it was probably the remains of his Chief Mate.
He didn't feel any sadness; to be precise, he cared little about the Chief Mate's death. If he didn't strive, Zeus would soon join his Chief Mate in the Heroic Spirit Hall, where there would be plenty of time to share in sorrow.
Zeus panted painfully, inhaling hot air in his panic. His respiratory tract was scorched, and every breath brought searing pain, as if sharp fragments were lodged in his throat.
His vision became distorted. He rubbed his eyes vigorously and realized one of them had lost sight, leaving only a stinging sensation and some gelatinous substance felt by touch.
