[Location: Central Park, New York]

Slash!

Thwack!

Thud!

With a single perfect arc, Muramasa sliced the Champion's arm like a thread cut from fate itself. Black lightning hissed along the wound, sealing shut any divine regeneration before it could spark. His bellow ripped through the barrier like a war horn, fury and disbelief mingling in one raw note of pain.

He staggered, clutching the stump where his spear arm had been, golden ichor spraying and sizzling as it struck the cracked soil of Central Park's sealed dimension. The ground itself rejected him, unable to reconcile his divinity against the weight of something older, darker, sovereign.

I didn't speak. I didn't need to.

Muramasa pulsed in my hand, veins of shadow rippling down the blade, drinking in the Champion's pain like fine wine. My aura pressed down harder, swallowing his, forcing him to his knees not by the strength of the blade—but by inevitability.

Behind me, Zeraphira's laughter rang out—broken, triumphant, deliriously sweet. "See? SEE, DARLING? Even a god's chosen bleeds when you lift your hand. How could they ever think they owned you? You were always above them, always mine."

Barbaras roared back at her, his molten fire crashing against her crimson serpents of Wrath. Their collision thundered like tectonic plates grinding, but even his frenzy faltered at the sight of his ally, the Champion of Ares, brought low with a single stroke.

Artemis, silent and steady until now, lowered her bow ever so slightly. Her emerald eyes flickered between the trembling Champion, Zeraphira's maddened glow, and me while keeping the Zealots in her line of sight.

My gaze never left the Champion's who refused to even groan. Pain must be hella unimaginable, yet the bastard still bit down on his tongue to choke the sound. Pride. Discipline. Or maybe denial. Whatever it was, it burned in his eyes as bright as the golden ichor spilling from him.

"Artemis, kill them," I repeated, my voice flat—command, not request.

The goddess flinched. Just barely. Enough to betray that she hadn't expected me to address her so coldly, so absolutely. Her bowstring hummed, divine silver light crackling as she drew. Zealots snarled from the edges of the barrier, caught like rabid dogs in a cage, their chants rising in a warped hymn to Ares.

"Dominic…" Artemis whispered, voice thin as moonlight. But she obeyed. Her arrow flew, radiant, tearing through the air with a whistle like divine judgment. It split into dozens mid-flight, each bolt a streak of silver death.

Screams followed—wet, tearing, final. The zealots collapsed like puppets cut from strings, their blood soaking into the warped soil. Not one made it past the barrier's edge.

Zeraphira sighed like a lover hearing her favourite song. "Mmm~ even gods kneel to your will, Darling. Doesn't it feel good? To see the world breaking itself just to keep up with your shadow?"

Her crimson aura writhed, snakes of Wrath lashing around her body, hissing at Barbaras as he struggled forward. His bulk heaved, fire burning, but for the first time, he looked… smaller. His eyes, bloodshot and wild, flicked from Artemis' silver arrows back to the Champion kneeling before me.

The Champion of Ares—one-armed, bleeding, aura shredded—still dared to lift his head. His lips peeled back in a grimace, half snarl, half bloodied grin. "You… are not a prince. Not even a king. You are… something worse."

Muramasa vibrated in my grip, eager, hungry, whispering through black lightning: Feed. End him.

I stepped forward. The ground cracked, reality bending under each movement. My blade's edge hovered before his throat, black lightning crawling up his jaw.

I met his gaze, my own silver-crimson eyes burning with the pulse of the Primordial Fragment. "No. I am what was before kings… before gods. Remember it in your last breath."

And then I swung.

Slash!

Thwack!

Spatter~

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The Champion's severed head rolled across the fractured ground, golden ichor streaking like molten sunlight across the blackened soil. His body twitched once, twice, before collapsing to its knees, then forward—face-first into the dirt with a hollow, final crash.

Tti-ring!

[You've killed Torion (The Champion of Ares).]

[Level—ERROR]

[Please complete the Job Quest to level up further; until then, the EXP is accumulated.]

Tch!

I clicked my tongue just looking at the system panel—

Tti-ring!

[Urgent Quest: Defeat The Enemies!]

[Number of foes to defeat: 100]

[Number of foes defeated: 100]

[Reward: + 100 Stat Points, Skill Acquired: Conqueror's Coating]

[Quest completed. Reward issued.]

Huh! Even Artemis's kill counts?

[As the order was given by the host, which indirectly caused the deaths of enemies.]

I see, so if I were to order Grayfia to slaughter the whole of first hell, would I get the EXP?

[Negative.]

Tch! Useless!

"Dominic... It's done." Artemis approached me, but her eyes lingered on the Champion's still-warm body.

"Thanks~" I gaze at the beautiful goddess for a moment, then refocus on the ongoing battle between Zeraphira and Barbaras.

The air vibrated with a heat that had nothing to do with temperature. Barbaras' molten aura flared like a volcano nearing eruption, yet every inch of him seemed shackled by something heavier, something he could not name. His claws struck, each swipe tearing the air and shattering the fractured remnants of Central Park, but Zeraphira moved as if dancing between raindrops of lava. Her crimson arcs of Wrath bent around her body, protective, predatory, worshipful.

"HAHAHAHA~ HEY! STUPID MUTT! I heard rumours that you reached the state of infamous sin trigger transformation, of you being just below the power level of the Satans? Is it any true? Because, as you are now, you're nothing but a toy to me!" Zeraphira shrieked, her voice fracturing reality like glass under pressure. The crimson snakes coiled tighter, hissing like serpents tasting the smell of blood and fear.

Barbaras was fuming—

"Now you have done it, stupid bitch! I was giving your father—Satan of Wrath face by going easy on you…But you…you crossed the line!" Barbaras roared, each word shaking the warped skies above the barrier. Magma fissures split beneath him, steam and cinders rising like the wails of the damned. His massive claws smashed into the fractured concrete, sending tremors that splintered nearby trees into jagged shards.

Zeraphira snoted, "Hah~ as if—"

But Barbaras's figure flickered into existence right behind her, with his claw dripping with something vicious which desorated the space around her like reality itself recoiling from a predator's shadow. The claw swung in a blur, massive enough to tear through dimensions, yet Zeraphira twisted mid-air, the crimson snakes reacting like living shields, hissing and snapping at the molten onslaught. Sparks of crimson collided with molten fury, lighting the fractured park in hellish streaks.

Huf~ Huf~ Huf~

"She almost died..." Artemis muttered, but it was loud enough to draw my attention. I let my senses stretch, weaving through the invisible threads of the barrier, tasting the tension in the air, feeling every pulse of intent, every beat of desperation. Even from where I stood, the raw power radiating off Zeraphira and Barbaras was like two suns locked in a gravitational tug-of-war.

I exhaled slowly, as the last of the fumes of Primordial Fragment left my body.

Yes, left my body. Because of not having the Demonic hearts, there was no core to fully anchor it. The Fragment hovered, restless, like a storm waiting for a vessel. Its hunger was palpable, gnawing at the edges of my consciousness, but I couldn't stop it from disrupting into nothingness.

All the power-ups gone, I'm again back to Level 40, Rank G.

Now if Barbaras came after me, I would be sitting as a duck waiting to die… a slow, pitiful death.

But of course, that wasn't going to happen.

Zeraphira clashed with him, but even I could see she won't last long if the situation were to remain as it stood. Her serpentine Wrath lashes flared wildly, each strike precise, lethal, but Barbaras' sheer mass and feral resilience made her movements seem almost fragile in comparison. The molten heat seared the ground, forcing trees to splinter and the remnants of Central Park's pavement to crack like dry parchment under invisible weight. Sparks hissed as crimson and molten energy collided, each wave distorting reality, creating temporary fissures that threatened to tear open the barrier itself.

"Artemis, can you—"

"Count on me." She lifted her bow again, eyes narrowing, and the silver light of her divine arrows ignited like starfire. "But you—stay back. This… this isn't something you can wade into half-heartedly."

I chuckled, low and dark, letting the sound ripple through the air like smoke. "Half-hearted? Artemis, darling, you wound me. You think I ever fight half-heartedly?"

Before I could even finish, Barbaras let out a roar that split the air like an earthquake. The molten fury coating his massive claws flared into a blinding corona, sending ripples through the barrier's warped atmosphere. He lunged at Zeraphira with terrifying speed for something so massive, swinging like a meteor aimed to obliterate.

Zeraphira didn't flinch. Her crimson serpents coiled and struck, snapping at his molten limbs, weaving and whirling like living whips. Each strike exploded in bursts of fire and wrath, but Barbaras' sheer resilience was staggering. He took hit after hit and barely slowed, his molten aura amplifying with rage as he bellowed, "YOU—YOU DARE DEFI—!!"

But he didn't finish. Not because Zeraphira struck him down—no. Because the air itself split. A subtle vibration, almost imperceptible at first, rolled across the barrier and then hit him like a hammer to the chest.

An arrow struck.

Artemis poured her divinity into her shot, but not in the way a normal arrow would. This wasn't mere projectile damage—it was a thread of fate, a slice of inevitability. The silver light didn't just strike Barbaras; it wrapped around him, crawling across his molten frame like ice through fire, searing through both flesh and spirit. He staggered mid-lunge, a strangled roar tearing from his throat, molten claws clashing against invisible chains.

Zeraphira's crimson serpents writhed, sensing the sudden shift, and she hissed sharply, pivoting her body to guard herself. But the tremor was small, subtle. Not even fully aware, she looked to me, her eyes questioning, almost pleading, though her pride wouldn't let her voice it.

"Darling!? Why?" She looked at me with indignation, clearly upset at being interfered with the flow.

"Zera, be serious," I said as my gaze softened at her, which immediately made her pulse quicken, a mix of exasperation, admiration, and that unshakable obsession gleaming in her crimson gaze. She huffed, coiling her serpents tighter around her arms, yet there was a subtle shift in her stance—a recognition, begrudging but undeniable, that I was no longer just a spectator. I was the axis around which this chaos spun.

Barbaras struggled to regain his footing, the silver thread from Artemis' arrow constricting him like a cage of inevitability. Molten heat hissed as it met the piercing, divine cold, small explosions erupting around his body. Yet he still towered above them, a mountain of fury and flame.

"Fine, I will retreat for now—"

"Zera, finish him now!"

But before Zeraphira could do anything, he crushed something in his grasp, and a magic circle erupted at his feet as his figure was enveloped in a searing aura of molten energy that threatened to tear the very fabric of the barrier. Sparks rained in every direction as the magic circle blazed with runes older than mortal comprehension, etched in golden fire that pulsed in tandem with Barbaras' heartbeat. The heat was oppressive, distorting the air around him; even Zeraphira's crimson serpents recoiled slightly, sensing the magnitude of the raw, destructive force.

Before anyone could react, Barbaras' massive form shimmered and disappeared from sight, leaving only the fading heat in the air and a faint, echoing roar of fury. The teleportation was not ordinary—this was the kind of movement reserved for beings who bent space itself, carving a path through reality rather than merely walking through it. His absence left the ground cracked and steaming, faint traces of molten footprints glowing for a moment before fading into the warped soil.

Tch~ coward...

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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