1817. Storms

Alexander, Sword Saint, Wilfred, Divine Demon, Robert, and Steven greeted Noah in the sky above his training. They had waited there for a while. Yet, all of them had felt that he would have come out in that period.

"Don't tell me that you have to spend another century here," King Elbas scoffed.

"My heir won't waste more time," Divine Demon snorted. "I can see the boredom in his eyes."

"You'll kill me before the chaotic laws," Steven sighed.

"You wish," Wilfred shook his head. "None of us will take the easy way out."

"That's us then," Noah exclaimed while his eyes moved among the experts. "Eight of us will go to the stormy regions together."

"We figured that having more existences would only slow us down," Alexander explained. "There is no room for mistakes there. We couldn't let everyone in."

"Which is the nice way to say that they are still too weak for those areas," Sword Saint commented. "We also barely meet the requirements on our own, but we should be fine together."