Chapter 414: Ch 414: Won’t Die – Part 3

Kyle’s mana surged around him like a tempest. With a sharp gesture, it collapsed inward, forming an intricate shield of layered force designed to trap and suppress divine essence.

The God of Justice was caught at the center, struggling as the layers closed in like a cage built from willpower and raw energy.

The air shook with tension as Kyle’s grip on the divine energy tightened.

But the god wasn’t finished.

With a slow, deliberate exhale, the God of Justice’s body began to shimmer. Cracks formed along his arms and chest—not of pain, but as if something inside him was tearing its way out.

“You still don’t understand. Even if you win here… you’ve already lost.”

He said, his voice distorted by the divine tremors.

Kyle’s eyes narrowed.

Then came the pulse.

The God of Justice exploded—not in flame or light, but in presence.

His body disintegrated into golden dust and scattered into the wind, but his divinity remained, stretching far and wide, like an unseen tide rushing across the planet.

Kyle’s mana shield snapped closed on nothing.

“No—!”

Kyle growled, reaching out, but it was too late.

From every mountain, cave, dungeon, and abyss, a new wave of energy surged upward. The world trembled.

A howling screech echoed from the heavens, then a second, and a third—until it became a cacophony.

Monsters. Everywhere.

The god’s voice rang out in the air, omnipresent, mocking.

“If you can’t kill me, then what hope do you have of stopping what comes next?”

Kyle gritted his teeth as the god’s scattered form lingered in the sky like a malignant storm cloud.

“You’ve failed, Kyle Armstrong. Even now, my essence breathes new life into every monster across your world. They will regenerate faster, stronger, more vicious than ever before.”

The god continued.

A pause. Then, the god’s voice dropped to a cruel whisper.

“You can’t kill me… which means you cannot save them. This planet will fall—and you will watch it burn.”

The echo faded, but its weight remained like a noose around Kyle’s throat.

Far across the battlefield, chaos was already blooming.

At the western front, Melissa ducked under the slash of a mutated ogre, slicing upward with her twin blades.

The creature howled but didn’t fall. Instead, it pulsed with a strange golden light and healed before her eyes.

“Tch—! They’re regenerating again?!”

She backed up, slicing again, faster, harder, but still the monster refused to stay down.

She pivoted and kicked the beast’s knee backward, shattering the joint, then slashed through its throat. Finally, it went limp—but not for long. Its torn flesh began stitching back together.

“Bruce! These monsters won’t die! What the hell is going on?!”

She shouted, dodging.

Bruce, bruised and bloody from his own fight, drove a lance into the ground, unleashing a burst of mana that incinerated three crawling beasts. He panted heavily, sweat dripping down his face.

“I don’t know. But something’s changed. It’s like they’re on something… divine.”

He said, voice strained.

Melissa grit her teeth, backing up beside him.

“Think it’s the God of Justice?”

Bruce nodded grimly.

“It has to be. Our young master must be fighting him right now.”

She scowled.

“Then why aren’t we there helping him?!”

“Because, he told us to hold the line. He knew this was going to get worse before it got better.”

Bruce said calmly.

Melissa stabbed her blade into the earth, cracking the ground around her.

“I hate it when he’s right.”

Bruce gave her a grim smile.

“Have patience, Melissa. If Kyle’s having a hard time… then the god must be suffering.”

Elsewhere, on other battlefields across the world, the story was the same.

The Grand Duchess watched with icy fury as her elite cavalry was pushed back by a hydra whose heads regrew faster than they could be severed.

“Tch. The monsters are evolving mid-battle.”

On the eastern shorelines, Prince Mikalius commanded mages to fall back, eyes wide with disbelief as a leviathan once felled by a hundred spells rose again, eyes glowing with divine madness.

The world was unraveling.

And at its center, Kyle stood alone, his sword still drawn, breathing hard as he stared up at the sky where the god’s essence still lingered, taunting him.

He hadn’t won.

Not yet.

And the price of failure had never been higher.

The god of justice floated above the fractured battlefield, his divine essence still glowing faintly. His form had reconstituted in fragments—spectral, half-there, a wraith of a once-god.

But it was enough to spread chaos, enough to poison the world with regenerating beasts and crumbling morale.

Until the air turned heavy.

Kyle raised his hand, and the sky dimmed. From the fractured space around him, mana threads emerged—shimmering lines of sheer force that slithered through the air like chains.

In a flash, they snapped forward.

The god barely had time to react before the threads coiled around him, binding his arms, legs, and throat.

Divine light flared as he struggled, but the bindings tightened with every pulse of resistance, reinforced by Kyle’s will.

“Kyle Armstrong. You’re wasting your time. Don’t you get it? It’s already too late. My essence is seeded across the globe. The monsters—this chaos—cannot be undone. The wheel is in motion. This world will fall.”

The god sneered, his voice warping with fury.

Kyle stepped closer, eyes burning cold.

“I’m not here to stop you. I’m here to end you.”

He said simply.

The god blinked. Then, he laughed—a strange, stuttering noise, not of joy, but disbelief.

“You? End me? You already know you can’t kill me! My immunity is cast. My existence protected by divinity itself!”

He spat.

Kyle didn’t reply.

Instead, he looked past the god… to a shadow approaching behind him.

And in that moment, the god of justice felt it.

A blade.

Mana-imbued, cloaked in intent, sharp enough to slip past divine protection.

It pierced through his back, sliding between his ribs and straight into his heart.

The god gasped.

The divine glow in his eyes flickered. His knees buckled. The light around him dimmed, like a flame choking on its own smoke.

“N-no… how…?”

Behind him stood Nigel—expression unreadable, body tense, his sword buried in divine flesh. He held firm even as the god convulsed, pressing the blade deeper.

The god stared at him, dazed.

“You… how did you—”

Kyle stepped forward again, voice soft, dangerous.

“You were so busy guarding yourself from me. that you forgot humanity has other threats. Other warriors. Other evolutions.”

He said.

The god’s mouth opened and closed as he stumbled forward, the strength bleeding out of his limbs.

“Impossible… I cast the immunity…”

“You cast it against me. Not against the future.”

Kyle said, eyes gleaming.

The god of justice fell to his knees, trembling as divine ichor spilled from the wound.

He clutched his chest, eyes wide with disbelief as Nigel withdrew the sword, now glowing faintly with remnants of divine energy.

“You were too arrogant. Too certain that I was your only threat. But I told you… I don’t need to be the one to kill you.”

Kyle continued, stepping beside Nigel.

The god’s body began to crumble into golden dust, scattering with the wind. But the god was not done just yet.