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Chapter 1139: The Ever-Worrying Elders
🕑 Added 2025-01-09 20:00:04 +0000 UTC"I…"
The Thorned Evil God was utterly stunned. He had expected the pursuer of the wounded Evil God of Desolation to arrive eventually, but not that there would be two of them. And to make matters worse, they didn’t bother with words—both attacked him without hesitation.
Caught off guard, the Thorned Evil God reacted quickly. Black mist churned around him as seventeen thorn-covered tendrils lashed out to intercept the incoming strikes.
Splat!
The golden blade aura cleaved through the tendrils, severing three of them in an instant. The severed parts writhed grotesquely in the void, spilling corrosive blood tainted with golden lightning and dragon flames. However, the deadly energy swiftly consumed the blood, erasing it entirely.
The severed tendrils, still brimming with vitality, instinctively tried to reattach themselves to their host. Yet the golden flames flickering at the wounds prevented them from merging back, forcing the Thorned Evil God to expend energy to purge the residual power.
While Muria's strike had caused significant damage, Mikaela's follow-up fell short in comparison. Her crimson sword aura managed to sever only one tendril before dissipating.
Had Mikaela's attack occurred in isolation, it might have seemed impressive—damaging an epic-level Evil God was no small feat. But in contrast to Muria’s devastating blow, her effort felt lackluster.
Observing the disparity, Mikaela’s eyes glimmered momentarily. She had long suspected that Muria’s strength had grown considerably after his audacious endeavors. However, she hadn’t fully grasped the extent of the gap between them until now.
The same opponent, the same level of effort, and the same type of strike. Yet Muria had severed three tendrils and nearly severed a fourth, while Mikaela had barely managed to cut one. The contrast was undeniable.
Mikaela couldn’t help but reminisce about their first encounter. At that time, she had easily overpowered Muria, pressing him into submission. Now, the situation was reversed—the gulf between them was immense.
Why? Had she not worked hard enough? Was her training insufficient? No. The answer lay in their vastly different approaches.
Mikaela, like all members of the Seraphim race, pursued the purest refinement of her divine bloodline. They were heirs to ancient gods, and their ultimate aspiration was to reach the heights of their progenitors. Every Seraph who embarked on the epic path used their first drop of source energy to purify their bloodline further.
Titans, by contrast, had no such compunctions. They embraced change, allowing their powers to evolve as they ascended. This often led to dramatic shifts in their abilities, with some Titans gaining powers entirely unrelated to their origins.
Muria, however, had taken this adaptability to new extremes. As a Titan-Dragon hybrid, he eagerly seized any opportunity to grow stronger, regardless of its source, so long as it carried no immediate risks. His power, a chaotic amalgamation of numerous sources, had reached unprecedented levels of versatility and depth.
Yet despite this diversity, Muria preferred his innate Titan and Dragon powers. These were the tools he wielded with the greatest precision and impact.
As these thoughts flashed through her mind, Mikaela let out a quiet sigh. She no longer felt frustrated. The gap between them was the result of their choices, and she had no regrets about her own path. Even if presented with the same opportunities Muria had, she would have refused. To her, mastery of a singular, pure power was the ultimate pursuit.
Returning her focus to the battle, Mikaela gripped her sword tightly. Before her, the Thorned Evil God, enraged by their attacks, retaliated with thirteen remaining tendrils, lashing out furiously.
For beings like the Thorned Evil God, enduring humiliation or remaining passive was never an option. The only reason the Evil God of Desolation had fled was his calculated desire to survive, even if it meant temporarily swallowing his pride.
Clang!
In response, the nine King Weapons behind Muria resonated in unison. Blades, spears, and other weapons unleashed waves of sharp energy, creating an ocean of cutting force that surged toward the incoming tendrils.
The Thorned Evil God hastily withdrew his tendrils, but not quickly enough. Several were caught in the storm, shredded into pulp at the ends. The pain caused them to twitch uncontrollably.
Even as an epic being, pain was still very real. While ordinary injuries could be ignored, those imbued with the power of laws struck deep, making every wound excruciating.
Realizing the tenacity of his opponents, the Thorned Evil God hesitated. He could sense that these two weren’t just powerful—they had the backing to summon armies of followers if necessary. Though they hadn’t yet done so, he suspected it was only a matter of time.
"Wait! There’s no need for us to fight," he called out, adopting a more conciliatory tone.
Like most world-destroying Evil Gods, he knew how to prioritize survival over pride. When facing opponents of similar strength, peace was often the best option.
"We can work together," he proposed.
"No."
Muria’s refusal was swift and absolute. He had no interest in allying with a creature that thrived on the suffering and destruction of worlds.
Seeing the rejection, the Thorned Evil God pressed on. "You’re here to kill the coward hiding in his origin world, aren’t you? He’s my mortal enemy too. Alone, none of us can break through his defenses. But together, the three of us might succeed."
Despite his refusal, Muria advanced, expanding the ocean of sharp energy as he moved. The nine King Weapons vibrated ominously, spreading their influence further.
"Sounds tempting," Muria replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But I’ll pass."
The Thorned Evil God was taken aback. "Why?"
But Muria didn’t bother responding further. He feared prolonging the conversation might spook the Evil God into fleeing. Actions, he decided, were more persuasive.
Boom!
The battle reignited with explosive ferocity. As Muria clashed with the Thorned Evil God, Mikaela stepped aside, observing without interfering. She knew her husband preferred to test himself fully in such encounters.
Realizing the imbalance, the Thorned Evil God refrained from summoning his followers. He had no doubt that doing so would provoke an overwhelming response from the two scions.
Meanwhile, within his origin world, the Evil God of Desolation watched with growing relief. The situation had played out exactly as he had hoped. The Thorned Evil God’s attempt to negotiate had briefly terrified him, but thankfully, his pursuers had rejected the offer.
Had the three united, his origin world might have been destroyed. But now, the chaos outside bought him the time he needed to recuperate.
"Madman!"
During the prolonged battle, the Thorned Evil God noticed something peculiar: Muria’s power wasn’t static. With each passing moment, his strength grew steadily, as if he were awakening latent potential through combat.
Faced with this terrifying discovery, the Thorned Evil God made a decisive choice. Breaking away from the fight, he turned to flee—only to have the void before him split open by a massive claw. A devastating breath of dragonfire erupted, slamming into him before he could react.
