A tall figure shrouded in darkness laughed, his face lost in shadow, his body more smoke than flesh.
"Look who we have here… Fariel. And alone, no less."
Another god spoke, his voice mocking. His body was humanoid, but scales of deep blue covered him, three horns crowning his head.
"Seems the task was too much for the God of Eternity."
"I have no time for your prattle. I must speak with Fate."
Fariel reacted, visibly annoyed.
Seythar, silent until now, lowered his gaze. His arms folded, his eyes had been shut since they walked in.
"Fariel… six gods sent, and yet you return empty-handed.
One deity escaped your grasp. Do you understand what this means? The underlings will question the council's strength.
Authority cracks not in an instant, but in whispers. That is how empires die."
Fariel scoffed, refusing to bow his pride.
"I owe you no explanation. A minor flaw, nothing more. Stay off my back."
The shadowed figure's voice cut through the air like a whip.
"Fariel! Watch your tongue. Council seat or not, I won't hesitate to put you in your place."
Fariel's face twisted with rage—then smoothed into a smile.
"…My apologies. I spoke out of line."
Seythar's voice, low but commanding, silenced the room.
"Enough, Erebus. Let him be."
He turned to Fariel, eyes narrowing like blades.
"Tell me, Fariel… what is this I hear about my son?"
Fariel's smile widened into cruelty. This was what he had been waiting for.
"Your son stood against us. He shielded the fugitive. And for his betrayal—he forfeited his life."
Fariel said it as if it hurt him just as much.
Erebus rose instantly, his smoke body fuming with rage.
"How dare you! You failed against a single deity, and then struck down the one you had no right to touch. For this, I will—"
A single gesture from Seythar.
"That is enough."
"But—"
"I said… enough."
The words reverberated like thunder, Nexus pressure filling the air.
Seythar's gaze turned cold, empty of all emotion.
"If my son fought against justice, then he deserved his end. Thank you, Fariel, for correcting my failure."
Without another word, he turned and left. The other gods followed in silence.
Fariel's veins pulsed with fury, his composure cracking once the doors shut.
Sadean entered quietly.
"My liege, how did it go?"
Fariel spun on her, seething.
"Does this look like victory to you? That monster… he could show more sympathy even for his son. Seythar, God of Chaos… I will tear down everything you hold dear."
.....
Devon, facing the creature, removed both his gloves as he built up his god-level Nexus in his hands. A symbolic pattern formed, like a complex magic circle.
He summoned his weapon—a one-handed sword glowing with blue light. The hilt was shaped like a wolf's head, and he gripped it with vigor.
The weapon was called Necrofell, a blade forged through endless battles. It grew stronger with every enemy slain. Once, it belonged to the God of War—a mortal obsessed with death who carved a bloody path to godhood.
Devon had taken the sword from his desecrated grave. It was said only one whose heart could bear the grief of the millions slain by the blade could wield it.
Devon was one of the few.
In the next moment, he vanished, contracting space and accelerating time within his body. He reappeared in flashes.
Then he clashed with the statue—it was like fighting a true statue.
It was too slow to react to Devon's attacks.
Repeatedly, Devon sliced.
Sparks flew as deep slashes carved into the brass plates.
With one decisive strike, he severed the giant's arm. The sword it held crashed to the ground.
During the clash, Devon had noticed the giant's eyes.
With each step he took, it felt like the eyes could see him, but the body was too slow to react.
Devon was still unsure of what he had seen when the giant dropped its shield.
Then, with a rumble, its massive frame shrank until it stood at the same size as Devon. The large sword from earlier reduced in size as well.
Devon's eyes widened. It had finally fixed the other problem.
The reduced form now carried the same sword and shield—Law and Order.
Devon vanished again, reappearing at its blind spot, aiming for its eyes.
Clang!
The giant blocked the strike.
The tip of Necrofell stopped mere centimeters away from its target.
Even so, the creature staggered back. The force behind that attack was earth-shaking.
Devon blurred once more, faster now, his attacks cracking its armor. Shards of brass flew in different directions.
At first, the creature struggled with defending itself, but one after the other, it started seeing his attacks.
It began adapting.
Devon halted.
His eyes narrowed.
"So you're just going to defend this whole time?"
The giant just stared at Devon.
"Very well, suit yourself," Devon said as he lunged forward.
Clang!
He struck, aiming for the giant's neck.
Using a shield, the giant raised it to defend against the attack and used the sword in its other hand to slice off Devon's arm.
Devon was hurled backward, his hand gone.
But in an instant, he regenerated it as he stared at the beast.
Who could have created such a monster?
His eyes flared crimson. His brown tattered coat burned to ash, revealing his muscular frame underneath as his aura roared to life.
Gripping Necrofell tighter, Devon sliced his hand, letting blood run along the blade.
The sword shrieked—a piercing cry that tore through the void.
The sound was so heinous, even the giant staggered, forced to one knee.