— — — — — —
The moment Ryo decided to test his new move, the pale blue flame in his palm flared violently as if someone had tossed gunpowder into it.
In an instant, that ghostly light shifted to a deep, sky-blue glow—like the color of the Milky Way.
"Ugh!" Rama grunted, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
The searing agony tore through his body, leaving his hands trembling and his legs barely holding him upright.
This was ten times worse than the pain caused by the previous "Sekishiki Kisoen"—a direct burn on his very soul.
Yet, to keep fighting, Rama bit down hard on his own tongue, using one pain to counter another as he forced himself to draw back his bowstring.
Then, his unwavering will shook the air itself, manifesting as a voice of divine command:
"O Shiva, grant me the power of destruction—let all that stands before me be reduced to nothing!"
As the words echoed, a pitch-black arrow formed upon his golden longbow. The Divine Arrow of Shiva.
Though Rama's body quivered, his grip on the arrow remained perfectly steady.
"You're still standing?" Ryo muttered, raising a brow in mild surprise. A faint smirk curved his lips. "Then how about this?"
The blue flame in his palm roared to life again, burning wildly and without restraint.
It was a reckless approach—crude, even. The move had already strayed far from the original intent of the Sekishiki Kisōen.
The Cosmos techniques were high-tier arts, combining soul and spatial manipulation—on the surface they looked brutal, but in truth they demanded delicate control.
Ryo, however, had yet to reach the Seventh Sense. Without that level of precision, he could only forcefully drag out Rama's soul and burn it directly—reproducing only a fragment of the move's true power.
But that came with a cost: the technique's greatest strength, its "spiritual destruction," couldn't fully activate. Instead, it only deepened Rama's torment.
"Gwah!"
Rama coughed up a mouthful of blood—chunks of his tongue and broken teeth scattering across the dusty ground.
With a heavy thud, he fell to one knee, face drained of all color and drenched in cold sweat.
"Brother!"
From the Divine Sword of Salvation, Lakshmana's voice cried out, filled with panic and fury. He turned toward Ryo with hatred blazing in his eyes.
"Brother, please—hold on! I'll help you right now!"
"Stop!" Rama shouted, eyes widening in alarm.
But it was too late. Lakshmana's form melted into a dark, viscous shadow that slipped into the ground, surging toward Ryo.
"Facing me in your soul form? You've got guts," Ryo said calmly.
He raised his free left hand, and violet light burst from his fingertips, bathing the ground in a sinister glow.
Sekishiki Meikai Ha.
This was one of the Cosmos fundamentals—yet also its deadliest.
The first Sekishiki Meikai Ha merely extracts an enemy's soul. The second shatters it completely, scattering the fragments across countless dimensional spaces.
A technique so cruel it condemned the target to eternal oblivion.
And Lakshmana, now a mere spirit, was far too weak—his strength couldn't even compare to a low-ranking Silver Saint.
"Uwaaaah—!"
As expected, his soul was torn apart by the Sekishiki Meikai Ha, his essence shredded into pieces.
Just before his existence was erased into the void, he screamed his final words:
"Brother—it's the purple light!"
"Oh?" Ryo's brows lifted slightly. "Well, it's not like I hided it."
"I see…" Rama, still kneeling, forced himself to rise, bloodshot eyes fixed on his own trembling body.
"An invisible connection…" he murmured.
Then he gritted his teeth and chanted:
"O boundary between life and undeath, in exchange for my left eye, grant me the power to see the unseen!"
With a sickening pop, his left eye burst—blood painting half his face crimson.
A second later, a new eye—emerald like a polished gem—formed in its place.
"I see it now!"
Through the jade-green eye, Rama saw it clearly: the thin, violet thread connecting Ryo's right fingertip to his own wrist and thigh.
That was the spiritual tether—the channel through which Ryo burned his soul.
Without hesitation, Rama's bow transformed back into the Divine Sword of Salvation. He swung it down, severing his right arm and left leg in one clean motion.
Squelch—!
Ryo frowned at the sight. "Cutting off your own limbs… what's the point of that?"
The Cosmos techniques weren't something you could escape by mutilation.
Without an equal-level cosmos or comparable power to interfere, Rama couldn't possibly break free of his influence.
If he couldn't before, he definitely couldn't now—missing limbs or not.
So Ryo's question carried a genuine trace of curiosity.
Rama steadied himself with his remaining hand, planting the Blade into the ground to stay upright. His gaze was calm as he replied: "This… was what my brother bought me with his life."
"???"
"Just to prove his sacrifice wasn't in vain?"
At those words, Ryo's expression softened slightly.
After a moment of silence, he sighed and muttered, "What a pointless fight."
To him, fighting—whether against the strong or the weak—was entertainment.
But suicidal opponents? They hated this type. If someone wanted to die, they should find a quiet place and do it themselves, not waste his time.
Unfortunately, Rama was exactly that kind of fool.
"I'm sorry I couldn't make it more exciting for you."
Rama gave a faint smile as his severed limbs began to regenerate. His tone grew solemn.
"To die at the hands of someone like you… perhaps that would be an honor."
"You're asking me to kill you?" Ryo narrowed his eyes.
"Maybe," Rama replied vaguely, his voice calm but unreadable. "Maybe I can finally rest in peace."
Ryo didn't respond immediately. His silence stretched, but the pressure in his gaze deepened, heavy enough to crush the air around them.
Then, slowly, he lifted his right arm—now pitch-black, laced with glowing crimson veins—and whispered:
"Assault, Virgo Hektos— Rainbow Flames of the Dark Princess!"
Golden mana surged upward, and from its blaze, a figure emerged—a Valkyrie in heavy armor, wielding a massive sword wreathed in rainbow fire.
The Sixth Familiar: Rainbow Flames of the Dark Princess. One of the Fourth Primogenitor's strongest familiars, which manipulates laws of nature and also carries the cause-and-effect cutting ability.
"What… is that?" Rama muttered, eyes wide.
"It's neither divine authority nor illusion—it's… real?"
Before he could finish, the Valkyrie swung her sword down upon him with devastating force.
Rama glanced at his half-healed hands, sighed, and closed his eyes—accepting death.
One second.Two seconds.
No pain.
He opened his eyes again—and froze.
Golden threads surrounded him, glimmering faintly in the air.
"This is… the threads of fate?"
Shock filled his face as the golden strands vibrated—
Snap!
Then, one by one, the lines broke apart, the sound echoing like brittle glass shattering.
In that instant, realization dawned.
His title, his divine rank as the "King of End," had been cut away—completely severed.
"Fate… can be cut?" he whispered.
Across from him, Ryo reached into the void and drew out a heavy metallic disk.
It looked like forged steel, with a dragon's head engraved in the center, surrounded by eight golden sword symbols—each radiating immense power.
Rama's gaze trembled as he recognized it instantly.
"The Circle of Usurpation… Pandora's artifact for creating Campiones!"
Holding it aloft, Ryo grinned. "Heh. I figured it might work—but I didn't think it actually would."
Only then did Rama realize what was happening—his divine authority, his destiny as the King of End, was being stolen away by the Circle of Usurpation.
"What…!"
He stared in disbelief as the artifact absorbed his fate, stripping it from him—and granting that god-slaying power to Ryo instead.
A new Godslayer was born.
By killing the King of End and seizing his power, the Seventh Campione emerged from the depths of the Netherworld.
.
.
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