“Let’s finish this off now… What else do veteran players in this game need to say?” San firmly said.

“Wait! Let’s stop. We are the Creator’s messengers, and we do not want to perish here,” Gapael shouted out, raising his hands as if he had suddenly woken up. His hands were completely empty-handed. It was the universal open-hand sign indicating that one was not hostile.

San stopped moving and stared at Gapael. The corners of San’s mouth slightly rose upward.

“Conceited angel… do you still think you have a choice?”

“There was a misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding? If you kill someone and tell them later that it was a misunderstanding, I’m pretty sure the dead will feel really good, right?”

Gapael looked at San bitterly. While making eye contact with the two, he awkwardly brushed the dust off his clothes and wings.

“We are Golden Avians, also called angels. My name is Gapael, and that is Linuel.”

“So? Did we ever say we were curious about your names? I don’t have much time. Just tell me why I shouldn’t kill you and what you’re offering! Briefly!”...