Fin

As Atlas spent his time in Nidavellir, seeking to impress his king, the war for Zandor raged on. It may have been peaceful inside the planet - for the enemies who had approached it had all been vanquished- but there were many other warriors who sought to gobble up Zandor for themselves, eagerly fighting outside. It was unfortunate however, that Zandor wasn't easy to breach; and a group of gods and goddesses were having to learn that the hard way.

"Is this the thirtieth time already?" a large man who easily towered over most others with a height beyond 2 meters, frowned. Next to him was another of a similar size, and this man too had a scowl on his face.

"Thirty first actually," a woman who was as slender as a bamboo shoot with a face as pale as a sheet of paper smiled blandly and offered a correction. Although she looked like a person who was deathly ill, her face was so beautiful that even the most skilled of artisans would be tripping over themselves to create a masterful attire for