Ch.193Life and Death (7)

The tower’s wall crumbles.

Three figures are thrown out like debris scattering in all directions, cutting through the thick dust and digging their feet into the ground as they’re dragged along.

The purple-tainted earth screams as it peels back its skin, and the siblings with matching eyes and hair face their enemy, each in different attire.

And what of the enemy?

The enemy closed in before they could finish their preparations. Parting the dust cloud with a thrust of the shoulder.

The distance suddenly shortened to point-blank range. Close enough to grab and pull without even reaching out. Llewellyn saw a hand extending right before his face.

He released his left hand from the sword hilt and tried to swat the hand away, but his helmet was grabbed first.

The approach was surprisingly fast and precise. Even the hand he extended to deflect was caught.

And the world spun. With a metallic clang, his body crashed into the ground and bounced up.

While the airborne Llewellyn tried to steady himself using his anti-demon power, Lucilla closed the distance.

In her left hand she held Northwind, her right hand loosely relaxed.

The intense heat she emitted set fire to the dust clouds just by passing through. The flames spread like wildfire, burning white and scattering crimson light.

She closed the distance with a blinding flash and thrust out her leg.

A dull thud rang out, like meat being pounded.

The sound of flesh being gouged, melting, and tearing away.

An eyebrow twitched slightly. Her leg was caught by regenerating flesh.

Most would be helpless in this situation, but Lucilla was no ordinary fighter.

While her right leg was visibly caught, she moved her left leg to jump and wrapped her thigh around the God of Death’s neck.

The God of Death tried to remove her thigh while holding it.

With a whooshing sound of air being split, the God of Death was slammed into the ground.

Dust rose thickly as if from an explosion. At the epicenter, Lucilla naturally mounted the God of Death and clenched her fist.

BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, KWAAANG!

Superhuman muscles, battle scars from fights that would take an ordinary warrior a lifetime to accumulate but she had experienced in just three years, and technique that could only be described as genius—all working in concert.

What she executed was commonly called “pounding”—the most primal form of violence that had existed since ancient times on Earth.

Lucilla’s long hair rose and fell with each impact as her right fist repeatedly destroyed the God of Death.

She crushed the head, neck bones, and chest, hammering down to destroy the regenerating head again, then driving the neck bones deep into the body.

Even if regeneration occurred, it would cause dysfunction or abnormal regeneration, forcing the process to repeat twice.

Sensing an attempt to twist free from below the waist, she countered by tightening her legs. All while her left hand, still gripping Northwind, moved to sever the neck bones.

Kill what cannot die. If so, just keep killing until the mind dies first.

She was an experienced warrior, and her technique was mature yet knew no decline.

The God of Death exploded the divinity suppressed within its body.

Space curved inward as bodies were thrown upward. From the crater that formed in the ground, the God of Death rose, its body missing even the head that had been torn away.

A leap and approach. The God of Death grabbed Lucilla as she tried to respond by twisting her body in mid-air.

Lucilla, who had been flying through the air, flinched in surprise when her ankle was caught.

But suddenly she saw blue lines etched in the air.

With a slicing sound, the God of Death’s arm was severed. Lucilla fell as if shot down from the sky, and Llewellyn floated in the air, using her outstretched arm as a springboard.

He inhaled deeply, his pure white eyes gleaming from within his helmet as he gripped Star Cluster in both hands.

Blue lines were instantly carved in the air. As they rapidly multiplied into six, the God of Death finished regenerating quickly and responded.

Blade strikes made of light advanced. They were deflected with hand chops, severed flesh scattered, and shock waves rippled outward in concentric circles, shaking the earth with explosive force.

A power so great that even the monsters of the demon realm held their breath and kept their distance.

The God’s extraordinary strength—superior even among deities—and martial arts befitting a deity who embraced death clashed.

Attacks that were smooth and fast, occasionally becoming as fierce as a waterfall.

And in response, indiscriminate barrages were unleashed.

Blade strikes met fists, feet, hand chops, and palms.

Beyond the thunderous roars, inside the tower with collapsed walls, the God of Dreams trembled slightly around the eyes.

‘How did things come to this?’

There was no chance to stop it, no way to buy time with clever words.

The conflict erupted as if there had been a prior agreement.

The three had immediately engaged in battle, seeking each other’s lives as if with clear purpose.

The evidence was right there. A thrust that cut through the blue light without warning.

It pierced through the God of Death, and Llewellyn pulled out his sword as he plummeted to the ground.

Not in the same direction he had thrust, but from below to above.

An incredibly violent cut. The spatial distortion surrounding the blade acted as cutting power itself, slicing through and bisecting the God of Death’s divinity.

Blood splattered, intestines spilled, and split flesh and bone soaked the ground.

Normally, this would be the end. But Llewellyn rolled as he landed, then immediately stood up and gripped his sword.

Llewellyn stood upright, breathing heavily.

Lucilla returned from where she had been thrown.

Where the siblings looked, the God of Death was reforming, oozing sticky blood.

After being bisected, beheaded, and dismembered, it still lived.

It survived despite repeated attacks from fists and legs that seemed to contain the sun’s flames. Heat should be the most effective means to prevent regeneration.

It was only natural. You cannot kill what is already dead.

The God of Dreams knew this well. The opponent was the God of Death, the personification of death itself.

Just as the God of Dreams was infinite as long as dreams existed and could survive with only a head remaining, being essentially dreamlike.

And just as he could freely borrow others’ bodies like becoming someone else in a dream, albeit with permission.

The God of Death transcended death. It truly could not die. That’s why the pantheon had sealed it rather than killing it when it merged with life.

It was the same now. Wounds that should be fatal, a crisis.

Yet it would not die. Instead, it defiantly stood up and took a stance.

The God of Dreams watched this and felt deeply conflicted.

What he should do.

His role.

He was the God of Dreams. A major deity in the pantheon, born around the same time as Death and Life.

If gods had ages, they could be called peers.

He was the rehearsal for death, a divinity that emerged after life was born.

So his heart momentarily leaned toward the God of Death.

Blood is thicker than water. And the God of Death felt closer than this new deity whose name was unknown even to the gods.

But.

‘The God of Death has lost reason. Though calm, it is not thinking rationally.’

The God of Death had said it would kill itself, kill this new god and his sister, and revive Life.

How unrealistic this was could be understood just by hearing it. Even the God of Death couldn’t do such a thing.

How could stolen divinity ever be the same as before, and how could a god who died at an unknown time be revived?

Why was it a sin for the God of Craftsmanship to take the divinity of the God of Vengeance, nearly killing it?

Because there was no way to revive a god.

It was impossible even for the God of Death.

The God of Dreams thought rationally and logically.

The choice was clear.

He did not hesitate.

“Llewellyn!”

The shout was not loud. The volume of a voice that could be produced without vocal cords or lungs was not very great to begin with.

Though divinity compensated for it, he couldn’t make a loud sound.

But it was heard. Llewellyn’s helmet tilted, and he launched his body toward where the God of Dreams was.

Dust rose, and the God of Death followed right behind.

It wouldn’t last long. Lucilla and Llewellyn were siblings. Lovers and siblings at that.

They understood each other’s intentions without eye contact. Lucilla immediately launched herself and kicked the God of Death, who tumbled along the ground and then collapsed when Northwind split its spine.

The opening created was very brief. But it was enough to reach.

With the power of mourning, explosive leaps, dragon-dropping technique, and anti-demon power.

The mobility specialized for charging brought Llewellyn to subsonic speed for an instant, and with what looked like space distorting, he reached his target.

Llewellyn picked up the God of Dreams lying neatly on the floor and threw him into his cloak.

The God of Dreams was momentarily surprised by this unexpected action but calmed down when his head clearly entered a red space.

The cloak was enchanted. It could hold any object regardless of volume, up to 100kg.

The head was relatively light. The God of Dreams quickly assessed the situation and shouted:

“The God of Death is where death does not exist! Just as you cannot kill what is already dead, cutting and crushing it is meaningless!”

So that’s why attacks seemed to have no effect. Llewellyn reduced his acceleration by planting his right arm into the ground to spin, then ran again.

“Then what should I do?!”

“You must suppress divinity with divinity! Or else…!”

He couldn’t finish his sentence. But Llewellyn saw the vision that the God of Dreams naturally thrust into his mind.

A moment when even the God of Dreams couldn’t properly manifest his divinity. A time when he was suppressed by the power of an unnamed spatial distortion transcender.

A power that was neither divinity nor magic. That could successfully interfere with divinity.

But how?

The distance closed rapidly. 100m, 80m, 40m, 10m.

He could now see the God of Death engaged in rapid close combat with Lucilla. Llewellyn judged with his accelerated cognition.

There was divinity in his body. Divinity taken from the God of Life, which had come to him unintentionally.

A miracle that had descended within reach due to increased divinity.

Its form seemed almost tangible.

Llewellyn gripped Star Cluster with both hands and exhaled.

Then his heartbeat resounded loudly.

This time, he sank inward rather than outward.

Divinity wrapped around his body and descended. It filled his entire body and rippled along the contours of his soul.

“Miracle Transformation.”

The flaws of the soul, the curves changed by human experience.

At the center, the man who was both Llewellyn and Yoon Se-jin recalled those he had met, killed, and those who had died.

Memories pressed into his mourning, like traces of tears.

Resentment, regret, and killing intent engraved on his soul that could not be easily forgotten.

Beyond that, Llewellyn recalled a certain lion beastman.

‘It’s my fault.’

A face that Llewellyn often regretted remembering, making him agonize over whether there could have been a better ending.

The lion beastman moved along the trajectory engraved on his soul.

Drawing his sword, he ran his hand along the blade to ignite flames.

Beyond the crimson-heated blade, a gaze was felt.

A red star shining beyond the sky.

The only transcender capable of communication. It flashed as if surprised to see Llewellyn.

“Star Blade, Ethan.”

As Llewellyn uttered words that transcended reason, the blue light of the blade turned crimson.

The path of the sword burned brightly.