The hall was grand and managed to be one of the few places on the Shrine Plane that didn't have harsh and cold winds to deal with. The walls were lined with what felt like enormous Greek statues of Gods, each depicting a different individual of grand standing in little to no clothing at all.

Despite their nearly nude forms, whether it was male or female, each didn't lose even a hint of their majestic aura. Just their depictions alone caused the atmosphere to become suffocating, explaining precisely why it was that this region managed to remain warm.

It wasn't because there was some formation set up, but it was rather because the presence of these statues alone and what their living counterparts once represented alone was able to block out everything.

A single young man walked through this hall slowly, his steps steady and his expression unmoved by the oppressive might around him. It felt, from a certain perspective, that these walls lined with grandiose statues were all looking down at him. But, whether they were doing so to intimidate or in adoration, was difficult to tell.

This young man had features that seemed almost too delicate to be found on a man. His frame was quite slight and his arms and legs were quite skinny. With his immaculate posture, he managed to just barely stand at six feet tall, but compared to many of his cultivating counterparts, this could be considered to be quite short.

A deep boredom etched the forehead of this young man. It wasn't obvious at first glance, being confused for indifference. However, upon looking closely, everything from the way he lazily shifted his gaze, to the way his chin somewhat drooped despite his almost perfect posture, even down to the slope of his brows painted the image of an individual that had decided that there was nothing of interest left in this place. Even the golden robes he wore seemed duller than they truly should be.

Of course, it was also possible to believe that he got away with such a bored appearance because he was so frighteningly handsome. Everything about him was so picture perfect that it was difficult to believe that he had such a character flaw at all, so the brain made up all sorts of excuses for him instead.

Maybe, though, of all those in Sacrum, he was one with the most right to act like this.

He was none other than Dreame, Throne of the Martial Gods.

BANG!

Twin doors that stretched hundreds of meters tall slammed open under the touch of his palm, revealing a hall and a wall of noise. In one moment, the building had seemed completely silent. In the next, a cascade of noise capable of drowning out even a hurricane flourished like a tsunami. Even the banging of the doors couldn't seem to stop the heated discussion. It was maybe only after Dreame was noticed that some paused. But, the vast majority continued as though nothing had happened, even after the doors slammed closed.

Dreame yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth. He strolled through the center of the heated debate and took a seat at one of the numerous thrones at the head. In fact, he took his place at the very center of it all, his eyes half closing in sleep almost immediately.

"Why is there a need for such discussion?! Don't you all feel embarrassed having such a meeting for one man?"

"Are you trying to say that our Ancestors are fools? Trillions of years of planning to thwart the birth of one baby boy and we somehow still failed. How do you think this is too much?!"

"Are YOU trying to suggest that there's actually a chance that something could come of this?!"

"Why don't you tell me how it is he survived?! Why is it that millions of years have passed but he still somehow remains 22 years old?!"

"You really call yourselves Martial Gods? How pathetic can you get? This is obviously an opportunity bestowed upon us by our Ancestors. He hasn't had time to finish growing yet, he is finished so long as he steps foot onto this Plane."

"Our preparations are not enough! We need to!"

"Stop! What you're asking for is a ridiculous waste of resources!"

"We've already invested so much into making certain that this world lands in our hands and at least half of that investment went into chaining that Spiritual Foundation! Are you trying to tell me that it isn't worth it to invest more to ensure that all those years weren't wasted?!"

"This isn't the only problem we have to deal with to begin with! One issue at a fucking time! Our resources need to be focused toward them!"

"What about he killed a False Sky God with his bare hands don't you understand?!"

"Since when did a False Sky God of this world amount to anything?!"

"Why are you bloviating like the achievements of our Ancestors are your achievements as well?! Compared to a true False Sky God, what the hell are you worth?!"

"I'm at least better than what this world has to offer!"

BANG!

The doors viciously swung open once more. But, this time, the individual who walked in caused a hushed silence to almost immediately fall.

She had an overbearing sort of beauty, dawning rose gold armor that hugged her chest, hips and thighs. A deep line of cleavage was visible for all to see as a v-shape curling into a heart that cupped her breasts took up the center design of her plate armor.

A short sword hung to her hip and pink diamonds dotted her armor, each radiating with a power that shook the air around her and even matched her short, ruffled hair.

Every step she took forward was heavy and overbearing, the floors beneath her feet cracking and splintering as though she couldn't rein in her forcefulness.

'They've returned?'

This particular pink-diamond haired beauty wasn't the familiar Elena at all. Instead, she was a woman that Ryu hated to the very core of his being.

Mistress Holy Wing had returned. And, not only had she regained her youth, she had broken through the World Sea Realm to become a Sky God.