CHAPTER 413: CH 413: WON’T DIE - PART 2

The sky dimmed unnaturally as the last of the divine monsters fell with a guttural scream that echoed into silence.

The scorched earth trembled with a heavy stillness—an unnatural pause that spoke of something far more sinister approaching.

Nigel shifted uneasily, gripping his sword tightly.

"Something’s coming..."

Kyle didn’t answer.

He felt it.

A pulse—an immense wave of divine pressure that cracked the air itself. Then, a blinding column of light surged from the hills ahead.

Trees withered in its glow, and the very wind grew heavy. From within that divine brilliance, a figure slowly descended, barefoot upon the ground that now glistened with sanctified light.

The God of Justice had arrived.

His form shimmered—both man and divinity, wrapped in gold and white. His eyes glowed like miniature suns, and his voice rolled out like a thousand judgments spoken at once.

"You’ve killed my soldiers. You’ve defied divinity. And now, you will fall here."

The god spoke, his gaze fixed solely on Kyle.

Nigel flinched, his eyes watering from the overwhelming light.

"I—I can’t see him."

He muttered, stumbling slightly.

"Channel mana into your eyes. Reinforce your vision. Don’t let his divinity blind you."

Kyle instructed, calm as ever.

Nigel obeyed, and slowly, the brilliance dulled. The god’s form came into focus—beautiful, terrible, and cruel.

Kyle, meanwhile, stared without fear.

"You’re late. I thought gods were supposed to be punctual."

He said with a faint smirk.

The God of Justice narrowed his gaze.

"You are no ordinary mortal... but no matter your strength, this is your end."

Kyle’s smirk only widened.

"Yeah? Let’s test that."

He dashed forward in a blur of speed, sword drawn, mana coiling around him like a storm barely restrained. The ground shattered beneath his feet as he lunged for the god’s throat.

But just as he closed in—

Boom.

He collided with an invisible wall of energy—a divine barrier.

The impact sent a tremor through the land, dust and light scattering in every direction. Kyle skidded back a few feet, eyes narrowed.

His shoulder burned from the force of the collision, but he didn’t flinch.

The god’s expression was somber.

"Did you truly believe I would face you unprepared? I have seen what you are capable of. I spent centuries preparing for this confrontation."

He raised a glowing hand, and a complex divine sigil appeared in the air between them.

"I even prepared a spell to erase your mana entirely. But... it doesn’t work on you."

He continued.

The sigil flashed and then flickered—shattered by something unseen.

The god frowned.

"As I feared."

Kyle tilted his head, amused.

"So you tried to erase my powers and failed. That’s gotta sting."

"I knew it wouldn’t work. "But it was worth trying."

The god said.

Kyle cracked his neck and raised his blade again.

"You’re right about one thing—I’m not an ordinary mortal. But you? You’re still just a coward hiding behind a fancy shield."

The God of Justice’s eyes darkened.

"Cowards survive, Kyle Armstrong. That’s how I’ve lived this long. That’s how I will outlast even you."

Kyle’s laughter rang out, sharp and cold.

"That’s where you’re wrong. You’ve survived this long by hiding, manipulating, and pulling strings. But you’ve never faced someone like me. Someone who doesn’t care about your rules."

He said, walking forward slowly, testing the divine barrier with the tip of his blade.

The god didn’t respond. His eyes gleamed, calculating, waiting.

Nigel stepped up beside Kyle, watching the god warily.

"What do we do now?"

Kyle glanced at him.

"We wear him down. He can’t stay behind that shield forever."

Nigel looked uncertain.

"And if he can?"

Kyle gave a small shrug.

"Then we make him want to come out."

With that, he raised his hand and unleashed a burst of compressed mana at the barrier. It flared brightly, holding—but visibly strained.

The God of Justice’s face remained unreadable.

"I will not fall for your provocations."

He said.

Kyle grinned.

"Then rot behind your wall."

Another blast followed—then another. Each attack chipped away at the divine calm, if not the barrier itself.

The war between man and god had begun. And Kyle would make sure the god of justice bled first.

The first clash shook the sky.

Mana erupted in a blinding wave as Kyle’s sword cleaved through the divine barrier like it was paper.

The shockwave flattened the nearby trees and cracked the earth, leaving only scorched soil in its wake.

The God of Justice staggered back, eyes wide in surprise.

Kyle didn’t give him a second.

He moved like a storm—sword dancing with surgical precision, slashing through the god’s defenses.

Every movement carried the weight of purpose, of fury tempered by discipline. Nigel watched, barely keeping pace as Kyle drove the god back, step by relentless step.

The god raised his arm, divine energy coalescing into a radiant spear, but Kyle was already there. He knocked it aside, drove his sword straight into the god’s chest—

A perfect hit.

The blade pierced flesh, buried to the hilt in the god’s heart.

For a heartbeat, time stopped.

Then—nothing.

No blood. No wound. No pain.

The god looked down at the sword lodged in his chest and gave Kyle a faint, almost pitying smile.

"You’re strong. Stronger than I expected. But it’s useless."

He said quietly.

With a pulse of divine energy, the god pushed Kyle back, the blade slipping out with ease. His skin remained unmarked, the illusion of injury vanishing like mist.

"You can land a thousand more strikes like that. But you will not kill me."

The god continued, his voice calm.

Kyle stood his ground, frowning.

"I just stabbed you in the heart,"

He said, eyes narrowing.

"I told you, I made preparations."

The god replied.

He raised his hand, and a golden brand pulsed on his chest, where the wound should have been. It shimmered faintly, like a seal carved into existence itself.

"A divine pact. A spell cast upon my very essence. One that makes me immune to death... at least from your hand."

The god explained.

Kyle’s eyes narrowed further. So it was true—just like in his last life.

In his final moments back then, the god had cast a final curse, a final protection—one that made Kyle unable to deal the killing blow.

It wasn’t a spell cast on the god, but on Kyle himself. Something etched into his soul.

"You’ve marked me,"

Kyle muttered.

"Yes. Even if I fall, it won’t be by you."

The god said.

For a moment, silence stretched between them.

Then Kyle’s lips curved into a grin.

"Fine. I’ll just break you instead."

He said.

He shot forward again, blade swinging. If he couldn’t kill the god, then he’d cripple him. Humiliate him. Tear him down piece by piece until there was nothing left but regret.

The god responded in kind, conjuring divine spears, shields, and radiant chains in a brilliant storm of power.

They clashed again and again, divine energy crashing into raw, honed mana. The air rippled from their blows, light and shadow tearing across the battlefield.

Nigel could hardly believe what he was seeing. Kyle—his brother—was pressing a god to the edge.

Not with borrowed strength, but with terrifying willpower and precision. Even as the god parried and blocked, it was clear—

Kyle had the upper hand.

But even that wasn’t enough.

The god of justice didn’t bleed. Didn’t weaken. And most of all, he couldn’t die.

Not by Kyle’s hand.