For centuries, the hunt had been a cold, boring, and fruitless affair. Out of the 20,000 demon gods, twenty-six demon gods, a pack of predators unleashed by Deimos's decree, had swept through this sector of the multiverse and found nothing.
The new Gods, the ones born from Adam's artifact, were cowards. They had hidden themselves away, their worlds hidden by some unknown power, leaving the hunters to starve in an empty space.
This endless search had made them irritable. It had made them angry. In their boredom, they had taken to committing casual atrocities; extinguishing suns, consuming the lifeforms of entire Godless planets, and torturing these poor souls just to pass the boredom.
Then, they found it.
A scent. A faint whisper of divine energy in a part of the void that should have been empty. It was a trail of life, a beacon of such overwhelming power that it pulled at their very souls.
