CHAPTER 1149: THE GOD

The being, torn in half on the ground, looked up at Arty.

His face twisted in rage, but no words came out. It was not because he didn’t want to speak, but because he couldn’t.

His consciousness was fading fast. He was only an avatar, after all.

After battling Arty, fragments of memory began to return to him.

He was an ancient storm god. He was long dead, then resurrected forcefully by Zerathul.

In his fading vision, he saw only Zerathul himself within Arty’s body.

His mind, clouded by confusion and fury, could no longer discern truth from illusion. He didn’t see the young girl before him. He only saw the one who had defeated him and enslaved his soul. Then sent him on this task against his will.

Arty showed an unsettling smile. It looked twisted and wrong. Her eyes still pitch black like obsidian stones.

She stared down at the god with a look of pure triumph, and the sight of it fueled his rage.

"GRRAAAHHH!!!" the god roared, but his voice was already breaking apart. He could do nothing else.

Arty suddenly spoke in a strange, guttural language that Sylmira had never heard before. Words that no mortal tongue should ever know.

"Your job here is done."

She raised her hand, and a stream of black mist flowed from her palm, coiling around the god’s broken body.

The mist tightened, burning through his flesh as if it were acid.

The god screamed again. His body melted into a pool of blackened sludge. But even as he dissolved, his eyes never left Arty. They were still burning with hatred and defiance, until they too were gone.

Sylmira who was watching from above clenched her jaw. The Arty she saw now wasn’t the Arty she knew. Something had taken hold of her. Something ancient and vile.

The unease in Sylmira’s chest deepened.

She forced herself to breathe. "I have to stay calm. She’s possessed by something and whatever it is, it’s powerful. Too powerful."

Sylmira’s eyes darkened with worry.

She couldn’t fight Arty now or attempt to seal her. It was too dangerous. If the entity inside decided to destroy Arty’s soul, it would be over.

"I need to observe and understand what it wants." Her expression hardened. "Erend and Eccar... they probably failed. I can’t believe it... but maybe this enemy truly is beyond comprehension."

Below, Arty’s eyes slowly returned to normal. Her body trembled as if waking from a nightmare.

She blinked, her expression dazed, then looked around in confusion.

The forest was gone, reduced to a wasteland of scorched trees, shattered earth, and flooding water.

Her memory was blank after the moment she fought the being.

She looked down and saw the pool of black sludge at her feet.

"What happened? Did I... kill him?" she thought, her head spinning.

Then, a wave of calm washed over her, unnatural and heavy, as if smothering her worry.

"It’s fine. I killed him, right? Then it’s over." She nodded faintly, convincing herself.

Sylmira landed beside her. Her gaze cautious but filled with concern as the wind carried away the scent of burnt soil and ash around them.

Arty smiled warily at Sylmira and ran toward her, throwing her arms around her neck.

Her voice trembled, though she tried to sound cheerful. "It’s finally over, Sylmira. I did it. I put an end to him... it’s all over now."

Sylmira hesitated, her hands hovering for a second before gently wrapping around Arty’s shoulders. She patted her back slowly.

"You’re right. It’s over."

But her tone was low, and her face grim. Arty couldn’t see it, her face buried against Sylmira’s shoulder.

The Archmage’s eyes shifted toward the pool of black sludge that was still faintly smoking behind Arty. She felt a faint pulse from it, like a dying heartbeat, but she said nothing.

The wind howled through the hollowed wasteland, carrying with it the scent of the burning flesh and woods.

—

Far away, within the storm-battered sky of Astoria Kingdom, Lysander staggered backward as his Magic clashed against the being wrapped in lightning. They were still fighting in the air.

Sparks exploded between them, scattering across the rainy and windy sky.

Lysander’s breath came in short bursts. His grip tightening around the hilt of his staff.

The creature before him swung wildly with strikes that were strong enough to split the stone walls but it all was strangely misdirected.

Its movements were erratic and its power was unstable. The arcs of lightning crawling across its body shifted in bright and dim, and also flickering between white and dark crimson as if two forces fought for control.

Lysander’s eyes narrowed. "He’s powerful... but unsteady. It’s like he can’t think straight."

He sidestepped another reckless lightning strike and countered, his Magic spell cutting through the creature’s guard and striking its chest.

The impact sent a shockwave that cracked the air itself.

The being stumbled back in the air and growled. Not in pain, but in frustration and anger.

His head suddenly jerked violently, as if resisting something within him.

The lightning around him spasmed, coiling and bursting into sparks that scattered into the clouds around them.

Then it stopped. For a moment, everything just went still.

The being’s body shook, his hands gripping his head as faint and distorted words escaped its mouth.

The words were fragmented and broken. It came from a language Lysander didn’t understand.

"No... stop... don’t—"

Lysander’s expression hardened. He took a cautious step forward, watching.

"What are you?" he muttered under his breath.

The creature looked up suddenly. And for the briefest moment, Lysander saw something human flicker in those eyes. Something familiar, filled with agony and defiance.

Then lightning exploded from his body again, sending him flying back through the air and plummeted down.

He crashed through a shattered wall, his armor sparking, his staff still crackling with residual energy.

As he groaned and pushed himself up, his gaze locked on the storming figure standing amidst the lightning.

It screamed again. But this time, the voice wasn’t monstrous. It was pained.

And Lysander froze in confusion.

"What is actually happening with him?"

—