Feeling the vast pressure of the deathly aura crushing toward him, the halo behind Lorne began to rotate as it shifted to the fifth incarnation, "Warrior."
The blood of the war god within his body instantly boiled, while the blazing battle intent ignited like raging flames.
Crimson fire surged out from every pore and acupoint across his body.
"Blood of Ares, perish here, be annihilated here!"
Within the silent murmur, Lorne twisted his body backward as his right hand clenched in the air.
The red and black Spear of Nation Creation manifested in his palm, then he thrust it upward with ferocious force.
The tyrannical power capable of destroying everything, along with the deathly will that erased vitality, transformed into a tangible tide of blood-colored waves that rolled forward violently, flooding the dreamlike golden radiance inch by inch.
When Hypnos saw the descending golden sword instantly swallowed by more than half, his expression slightly changed.
He immediately curved his fingers forward as he grasped through the air, seizing the already damaged giant sword in his hand.
Activating the authority of dreams that could turn illusion into reality, he reformed the blade and condensed an even sharper edge, tearing apart the crimson flames in one stroke.
"Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!"
The Spear of Nation Creation and the golden sword collided violently hundreds of times within only a few breaths.
The piercing sound of metal clashing echoed endlessly like beans popping in a pan, causing Charon and Thetis on the boat to feel sharp pain in their eardrums.
As for Sisyphus, whose talent for running away was maxed out while his combat ability was utterly mediocre, the situation was even worse.
At this moment, he clutched his splitting head, groaning repeatedly in pain.
In the end, it was Charon who realized that the true payer of this deal was about to collapse, so he reluctantly slammed the long pole in his hand into the River Styx.
Along with the sound of splashing water, a thin curtain of water rose around the ferry, surrounding everyone on the boat while shielding them from the terrifying aftershocks of the battle.
Having narrowly survived, Sisyphus shook his head that felt as if it had turned into mush.
Then, he immediately piled a usual smile onto his face and stepped forward, trying to get closer to the ferryman. "I felt like I was about to die just now. Luckily you were here, my friend..."
However, feeling the divine power and divinity inside him continuously draining away, Charon ground his teeth in anger.
"Pay more!"
"..."
The smile on Sisyphus' face froze.
However, under the gloomy gaze of the ferryman of the Styx, he could only nod gloomily while secretly complaining in his heart.
There were three people riding the boat, the one fighting was in front, so why was he the only one paying the bill?
"Boom!"
At that moment, the Spear of Nation Creation and the golden sword in midair collided for the final time.
A violent shockwave spread outward as it shattered the crimson flames around Lorne and the Underworld butterflies surrounding Hypnos.
"Puff! Puff! Puff! Puff!"
Streams of golden and crimson light tore through the sky, shooting toward every direction with sharp wailing sounds.
For a moment, dust rose along both riverbanks as large fields of blooming poppies and valerian were shredded into fragments.
Massive columns of water several meters high burst upward from the river surface, while the wandering spirits living within the Styx screamed as they scattered in panic.
Floating above the river, Hypnos lowered his head and glanced at the golden sword that now remained only half intact in his hand and casually threw it aside, then raised his eyes toward the opponent wrapped in crimson flames while holding a divine weapon.
"The spear is good."
But that was all.
The moment his words ended, the butterfly-shaped wings behind the god of sleep gently flapped.
Countless sparkling phosphorescent powders scattered into the air as they transformed into thousands of golden and black Underworld butterflies that dived toward the ferry like falling meteors.
Trying a long-range attack?
Looking at the countless shimmering lights filling the sky, Lorne's expression did not change at all.
He planted the spear into the surging waters of the Styx with both hands gripping the shaft.
The "Warrior" faded as the "Great Whale" emerged.
Instantly, the waters of the Styx around him surged upward under the rhythm of ocean authority.
Countless droplets of water floated into the air like clusters of ink, automatically forming shapes as they wrote themselves into Hermes runes, Titan divine patterns, Linear script symbols, and many other mystical characters.
All the runes gathered around Lorne like stars filling the night sky, illuminating the darkness.
At that moment Hypnos felt as if he had stepped into a treasury that preserved the seeds of civilization.
The historical traces carved into the river of memory seemed to appear before his eyes.
At this moment Lorne resembled a wise scholar wearing a nine-pointed crown as he raised his right hand while using the spear as a pen, then traced the final stroke through the air.
Knowledge is the ladder. Inspiration is the crown.
Here, truth is pursued to its ultimate limit and falsehood is erased.
In an instant the dense runes floating in the sky acted like well-trained soldiers.
Using the figure at the center as their core, they automatically linked together and constructed one magic formation after another.
Each formation began to weaken, intercept, defend, and counterattack automatically.
The swarms of diving Underworld butterflies were precisely cut apart, surrounded, blocked, and shot down one by one without letting a single one slip through.
Seeing the enormous magical formations that filled half the sky, magnificent like a castle and so exquisite they resembled works of art, Sisyphus standing on the ferry widened his mouth in shock while his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
Who exactly is this guy?
His mastery of magic had reached such a terrifying level.
Even Hypnos, one of the twin gods of the Underworld, could not defeat him.
The more Sisyphus thought about it, the more uneasy he felt.
One thing was certain.
The other side definitely had not come here specifically to rescue him.
The trouble these people would cause in the future would probably be far greater than anything he had ever done.
If a mere demigod like him got dragged into it, he might not even have bones left by the end.
Thinking about it carefully, it seemed like he was the one losing out.
At this moment Sisyphus began to miss the warmth of that boulder he used to push.
Unfortunately, whether it was Charon who was waiting for him to return to Corinth and pay the money, or the beautiful goddess standing behind him who seemed to be blocking his escape intentionally or unintentionally, neither of them seemed willing to let him jump off the boat so easily.
At the same time, after losing two consecutive exchanges, Hypnos' expression finally became serious.
Originally he thought the divine weapon with destructive power was Lorne's trump card, but unexpectedly his opponent's mastery of magic was even greater.
Since that was the case...
Hypnos raised his hand as a black and gold transverse flute carved with butterfly patterns appeared in his palm, before he lifted it to his lips.
As air flowed through the instrument, a gentle and elegant melody drifted from the holes of the flute and spread across the surroundings.
Countless golden and black Underworld butterflies appeared in the sky as they danced gracefully, scattering dreamy phosphorescent lights.
Inside the magnificent golden palace of Corinth, beautiful maids walked around while laughing, pouring cup after cup of strong fragrant wine into Sisyphus' mouth as the soft velvet bed nearby released a comfortable scent.
On a lush green island, the gentle sea breeze brushed against Thetis' cheeks as it carried the moist scent of the ocean.
Soft sand beneath her feet rubbed against her skin comfortably while the warm sunlight relaxed her body, making her want to lie down beneath the shade of a distant tree and quietly enjoy the peaceful afternoon.
Inside a house built in the architectural style of the Minoans, the warm fireplace crackled softly.
A table full of delicious food had already been eaten clean, while the feeling of fullness made the body feel lazy, causing one to wish to lie down in a rattan chair and enjoy a short nap after the meal.
'I'm a little sleepy. I'll sleep for a while.'
Just as Lorne yawned and slowly closed his increasingly heavy eyelids, the flame inside the stove suddenly exploded with a loud crack.
Golden fire surged upward several meters high as it engulfed the entire house in flames.
'Something is wrong! I'm still in the Underworld!'
The sudden burning sensation inside his mind instantly shocked Lorne awake and he abruptly opened his eyes while looking fearfully toward the figure playing the flute in midair and the hundreds of Underworld butterflies that had already approached dangerously close.
The authority of sleep truly lived up to its reputation.
It is said that even Zeus himself had once fallen victim to it.
Without realizing it, Lorne had almost been bewitched by Hypnos' flute and fallen asleep on the spot.
If the sixth incarnation, "Flame," had not used its purifying authority at the critical moment to awaken a trace of his consciousness, the consequences would have been disastrous.
Although she's so unreliable most of the time, when it matters most, his chief god is the most reliable.
Lorne silently made the sign of the cross in his heart as the purifying flames burst out of his body, instantly burning every approaching Underworld butterfly into ashes.
He actually broke free?
Seeing this unexpected result, Hypnos was startled as he tried to strengthen the resonance of the melody in order to drag his target back into the dream once again.
However, now that Lorne was alert, he would naturally not give him that chance.
Leaning backward into an exaggerated arc, he gripped the Spear of Nation Creation tightly in his right hand as a solemn divine chant left his lips.
"Branch of destruction, nail of the divine corpse, reignite the ashes at the beginning!"
In the next moment crimson flames ignited around his body while the sacred spear made from great palm wood in his hand was set ablaze.
As ashes drifted through the sky, the foundation of the dead world revealed its defeated essence.
Withered, pitch black, resembling a piece of lifeless charcoal.
Yet when facing this ugly and ruined object, Hypnos treated it as if facing a deadly enemy.
He pushed the dream weaving melody of his flute to its extreme.
He had a premonition that once struck by that thing, whether a powerful hero or an immortal god, they would all be reduced to ashes by that burning branch.
Only a true chief god who had reached immortality could survive such terrifying destruction.
"Whoosh!"
The burning branch shot forward while igniting the deathly aura of the Underworld along its path.
Layer after layer of purple dream barriers shattered instantly, while the Underworld butterflies acting as the network and foundation could not dodge in time, and burned with intense flames, falling into the Styx like drifting lanterns floating upon the water.
"Pfft!"
With the faint sound of a blade piercing flesh, the flute melody abruptly stopped.
A thin line of blood appeared across Hypnos' handsome face as several drops of golden-red blood fell toward the raging waters of the Styx.
At that moment Sisyphus and Thetis on the ferry suddenly awoke from their trance, their faces pale with lingering shock.
"I must admit that you are very strong, so next I will fight with my full power."
The god of sleep in the air raised his hand and wiped the blood from his face as he spoke calmly.
Within his solemn tone there seemed to be a trace of rare coldness.
"Why does life sleep? Because it has not yet prepared itself to face death."
As the god who governed sleep, Hypnos disliked killing and rarely fought others, nor did he often deal fatal blows.
But as one of the twin gods of the Underworld, guarding this place and maintaining order was his duty.
Once he fought with his full strength, even he could not guarantee whether the opponent would survive.
Such is the nature of battles between life and death.
In the next moment killing intent filled Hypnos' eyes as he raised the half broken flute in his hand, anf swung it forward.
Instantly a sharp and ear piercing wail echoed through the surroundings.
The boiling deathly aura was compressed to its extreme as it transformed into countless swords, spears, war hammers, and even meteors that shot forward like a devastating storm.
Facing the overwhelming attack from Hypnos, Lorne, who had just thrown the Spear of Nation Creation and now stood empty handed, smiled slightly.
Then he suddenly grabbed Thetis and Sisyphus beside him, leaped forward, and jumped onto the riverbank covered with blooming narcissus flowers.
There was no other reason.
After dragging things out for so long, they had finally reached the Fields of Truth.
At that moment the only one left behind was Charon, the ferryman of the Styx, who looked at the massive storm of swords, spears, war hammers, and meteors rushing toward him, his eyes widening in disbelief.
Boom!
In the next moment a towering column of water hundreds of meters high erupted from the Styx while shattered black wood fragments flew everywhere.
Within the raging waters of the river, an old man in ragged clothes furiously waved the broken pole in his hand while driving away the swarming spirits, then his head toward the three shameless figures who had already dived into the narcissus flowers and fled at full speed, roaring in grief and fury.
"Pay more! Remember to pay more, you bastards!"
(End of Chapter)