CHAPTER 315: CHAPTER 314- HUMANITY IN THE PAST

"Are you insane?" Adrian snapped. He knew he sounded rude, but he ignored Michael’s growl and pressed on. "How can you even think of something like this?"

He stood on the dock, staring at the golems Forgelet had prepared.

They were massive—seven feet tall, shaped like men, each with two mechanical arms tipped for drilling. Their bodies were forged from some unknown metal, but Adrian could tell it was nearly indestructible.

Ten of them stood before him, built to hunt down the nanobytes before they could wreak havoc on the world.

At first glance, they looked like durable machines meant for heavy labor.

But that illusion vanished the moment someone opened the hatch on their heads—inside sat a living, working brain.

Forgelet grinned. "Don’t flatter me too much."

"..." Adrian fell silent. What part of his words had sounded like praise?

Forgelet’s smile faded. "Relax. These brains were taken from criminals. No guilt attached."

Adrian exhaled sharply. "I’m not upset that you’re using human brains as tools. What bothers me is how reckless this whole idea is."

Michael frowned. "You’re saying they can’t handle the mission?"

Adrian shook his head. "That’s not it. If Forgelet says they can reach the inner surface without being destroyed, then my runes will make sure the job gets done."

He rested a hand on his hip. "What worries me is what these creations can do. They can use any element. And anyone could command them." He shot Forgelet a hard look. "You understand the risk, don’t you?"

If the Acolytes ever got hold of them, they wouldn’t need human pawns. They could send these golems instead. And with the ability to wield mana... those things could cause a disaster like no other.

Forgelet heaved a sigh, "The idea is locked here, don’t worry Avirin." She said while tapping against her head, "And worry not, I have created these monstorosity because of the severity of the matter. Further production is impossible unless something on this scale arises again."

Adrian exhaled a shallow breath, "Well, sorry for lashing out. I trust your judgement, Forgelet."

Michael groaned seeing their closeness but remained silent.

Wearing his glasses, Adrian asked, "So...should I start?"

...

Annabelle knew that running now would only cause more destruction than this being had already left behind.

She could feel multiple eyes on them—probably the cult, watching their latest experiment unfold.

This creature—the pseudo-fallen-god—was far more dangerous than anything humanity had faced in recent years. Walking away now would only let it turn its wrath on them.

Darling would be disappointed.

That was why, DHAK.

Her boot slammed onto the being’s head, smashing his face into the wet soil.

"Aghahaha..." A deep, guttural laughter rolled out, echoing through the clearing.

Then, she heard something slithering.

And before Annabelle could react—

TEAR.

Vines burst from the ground, wrapping tightly around her ankles and wrists, freezing her in place.

"Agh!" Her mana was being siphoned, slowly draining through the enchanted vines.

The boulder she had thrown was lifted effortlessly into the air and hurled away.

The fallen god rose, a wild grin spreading across his face.

"I am impressed with your courage, female. You would make a fine mate for me."

Annabelle snarled, "Touch me, and you’ll regret ever waking up."

Not an ounce of fear showed in her eyes. She was as defiant as the moment he first saw her.

"Humans haven’t lost their edge. I’m pleased to see that," he muttered, crossing his arms behind his back. "Back then, when Darkness struck, we almost wiped humanity clean. They had forgotten why they even existed."

A snicker escaped him. "They stopped praying to us."

Annabelle wasn’t listening to his words. Her focus was entirely on the vines coiling around her. The harder she struggled, the tighter their grip became.

Her bones ached, her muscles burned, and each passing second left her weaker. Even with her enormous mana pool, she felt her strength slipping as her energy was siphoned away faster than she could replenish it.

Nytharos stepped closer, his gaze cold. "Do you know what kind of world it was before Darkness struck?"

He snapped his fingers. Suddenly, the world around them shifted. For a heartbeat, everything went blank. Then, in the distance, a colossal church materialized.

Annabelle frowned at the sight of the massive crowd pressing at the gates. Thousands of people, packed tightly, all waiting in silent obedience.

Appearing beside her, Nytharos continued, "That’s the temple of my elder brother. Back then, if you didn’t pray to him at least twice a day... do you know what happened?"

Snap.

The scenery changed instantly. The bustling temple was replaced by a cold, sterile morgue.

Annabelle’s eyes widened. Hundreds of white sheets covered bodies, their faces hidden—but the finality of death was undeniable.

Only a few faces remained uncovered, and they were horrifying. Vitality had been leeched away. Skin sagged with wrinkles, eyes gasping for breath, each person teetering on the edge of death. And yet, not a single soul was there to witness their last moments.

No friend. No relatives. No one.

The silence was absolute, broken only by ragged breathing—a grim testament to lives drained of hope and life.

Annabelle froze, genuinely shocked. For a moment, she stopped struggling.

Could it be true...? Were the Gods really like this?

Her Darling had lived in that era. He had lived under the rule of the Gods. Surely he knew what the world had been like back then.

Maybe... that was why he had never spoken of his past.

Questions swirled in her mind, each one darker than the last. But reality came crashing back, harsh and immediate.

Nytharos stood before her, his expression unreadable. "You have a strong heart," he said. "That is why I am bestowing upon you the blessing of bearing my soul."

Annabelle’s eyes widened in panic as she saw him slowly extend his hand toward her.

She knew what would happen once he touched her. She didn’t want that! No one can touch her! She belongs to her Darling!

"Ehh?" Nytarhos tilted his head as he saw the change.

Annabelle’s eyes went white, glowing faintly as something inside her snapped. She didn’t think. She didn’t plan. Magic surged through her, wild and raw, responding to her fear and rage.

The sky darkened instantly. Thunder rolled as if the heavens themselves were trembling. Lightning ripped from the clouds, striking the ground and the puddles around Nytharos.

Bolts danced uncontrollably, some striking the ground, some tearing into the trees, some grazing the fallen god himself.

His skin burned, head was split open by the thunder yet the man remained standing.

The vines writhed violently, glowing faintly as her untamed power coursed through them, constricting tighter without her realizing.

Mud and debris flew in every direction. The air crackled with electricity, and a low, inhuman hum pulsed from her.

Annabelle gasped, unable to control it, unable to stop it. Every heartbeat sent another strike from the sky, jagged and violent, as if the storm itself had grown sentient.

She wasn’t fighting anymore—she was a storm incarnate, and no one could predict where her fury would strike next.

Nytharos suddenly erupted into laughter, "Who could have thought that I would meet my descendent like this!"

°°°°°°

A/N:- I mean..she is fighting a battle against a being who has thousands of years of experience. You can’t possibly believe her to overpower him.