Chapter 211: Defeat.
Kaelion’s hand rose slowly, fingers curling as if plucking invisible strings.
In the distance, one of Orca’s colossal drifting landmasses — a continent that had once held empires — shuddered. The mountains groaned, seas boiled, and the very crust split apart as Kaelion’s will gripped it like a predator’s claws.
Without ceremony, he tore it in half.
RRRRRIIIIIIIIIP!
The colossal fragments spun through the void, molten rivers spilling into the darkness. Kaelion hurled one straight at Igaris, the force behind it enough to crush kingdoms in a blink.
Igaris reacted instantly, his hands weaving forbidden sigils as black sunfire spiraled around him. With a roar, he unleashed Voidflare Collapse, detonating the incoming mass in a blinding explosion of shadow and crimson light. Shattered rock and burning debris scattered across the battlefield, some slamming into other floating continents and breaking them apart in chain reactions.
But Kaelion wasn’t finished.
He seized another drifting landmass, this one larger than the rest, and began folding it inward on itself. Its mountains crumbled like sand, its oceans evaporated into vapor, until it condensed into a dense, burning sphere of molten earth — a star forged from a world’s corpse.
The Saints watching from afar felt their knees weaken. Even at their peak, they could never hope to manipulate planetary matter with such ease.
Kaelion’s eyes glowed with divine contempt. "You wanted a battlefield, Igaris. I’ll give you the graveyard of worlds instead."
With a flick, the burning sphere shot toward Igaris at impossible speed, the void itself warping in its wake.
"Buzz!"
The molten sphere roared through the void, pulling debris and even smaller continents into its orbit as it hurtled toward Igaris. The sheer heat made the space between them shimmer and twist, warping reality itself.
Igaris’ eyes narrowed. The Supreme Mage runes he had mastered in the Dream Realm burned into existence across his body, each one pulsating with power beyond mortal understanding.
He raised both hands, fingers curling into an intricate weave.
"Forbidden Spell: Chrono-Oblivion Spiral."
Time itself shuddered.
The molten sphere’s unstoppable advance slowed, then froze entirely, locked in an amber stillness. Shards of floating rock hung in the air like statues, Kaelion’s divine aura halted mid-surge. Even the distant Saints found themselves unable to breathe, trapped in a suspended heartbeat between past and future.
But Igaris was not bound by his own magic. His robes rippled with the force of the Chrono-Oblivion Spiral as he stepped forward, the void under his feet warping with every step. He reached the molten sphere and pressed a single palm against it.
The runes flared.
CRRRAAACK!
The star of molten earth fractured from its core outward. Lava burst in slow-motion fountains, its light dimming as Igaris siphoned the raw elemental force into his palm, compressing it into a black sphere the size of his fist.
The instant the spell’s temporal hold ended, reality snapped back.
Kaelion’s eyes widened a fraction — the molten star he had hurled was gone, replaced by a singularity of annihilation spinning in Igaris’ hand.
"I return your gift," Igaris said coldly.
He hurled the sphere. The moment it left his grip, it expanded violently, not into fire, but into a horizon of void, swallowing debris, light, and even Kaelion’s divine aura. Space screamed as the black maw tore through the battlefield.
The black maw screamed through the void, devouring all in its path. Space itself curled inward, twisting like paper into its ravenous pull. Even the Saints scattered across the drifting landmasses could feel the pressure tearing at their souls.
For an instant, it seemed as though Kaelion would be consumed.
But the God of Damnation merely raised his right hand.
No flourish. No grand movement. Just a slight flick of his fingers.
The singularity stopped dead in front of him, the devouring force suddenly silenced as though it had never existed. The black sphere trembled, shuddered, then unraveled into streams of nothingness that melted into Kaelion’s palm.
His golden-scarlet eyes locked on Igaris.
"Humph... Looks like you learned something interesting in that Dream Realm... but you forget. In this age, I am the end."
"RUMBLE!"
The divine aura around him swelled, but this time it was no mere aura — Kaelion’s form blurred, his shadow splitting into countless wings formed from a storm of damned souls. Their wails reverberated across Orca’s shattered sky, drowning out the noise of crumbling continents.
The Saints watching from the fractured horizons tensed.
"God of Damnation... he’s invoking that," one whispered.
Kaelion’s voice deepened, layered with a chorus of a million damned spirits.
"Eternal Blight Genesis."
He swung his arm downward.
"CREAAAACCCKKKK!"
And the very fabric of Orca screamed.
The remaining fragments of the once-great world cracked like glass. Colossal chunks of land — each the size of empires — split and drifted away faster, pulled toward the void. Oceans boiled into clouds of steam. Mountains unraveled into rivers of molten rock.
Some Saints tried to intervene, hurling their most devastating divine techniques toward Kaelion, but they dissolved in mid-flight, reduced to harmless sparks before even touching him.
Kaelion didn’t so much as glance at them.
To him, they were ants crawling on the edges of a burning empire.
The drifting fragments of Orca spun endlessly into the void, colliding, shattering, and scattering again like glass in a storm. The Saints clung to the edges of the surviving landmasses, too afraid to intervene, yet unable to turn away from the battle between the two titans.
Igaris stood on a jagged, floating continent, the abyss yawning around him. His breathing was steady, but the veins of magic etched across his body pulsed like molten rivers.
Kaelion floated above, wreathed in an ocean of damned souls.
"Still standing? I’ll grant you that much."
But Igaris didn’t answer. His eyes — black voids laced with silver — glowed faintly as his hands began weaving seals. This was not a single spell. This was a symphony of annihilation.
Soul Eclipse.
World Destroying Finger.
Umbral Veil.
Yin-Yang Reversal.
Each one was a forbidden art in its own right, capable of erasing armies or rewriting reality within a region. But Igaris, drawing on the limitless grasp of his Infinite Acquisition, forced them into harmony, threading their cores into a single lattice of destruction.
The air warped violently. Time stuttered. Even the drifting continents slowed in their paths as the combined magic bent the laws around them.
Kaelion’s smirk faded for the first time.
"You-You dare attempt a composite on me?"
The spell roared to life, becoming a colossal, spiraling pillar of black and white energy, rimmed with spectral blades and laced with devouring darkness. It did not simply radiate destruction. It promised the end of all things it touched.
Igaris’ voice cut through the chaos.
"Oblivion Spiral — Final Convergence."
The attack surged forward, tearing through the void like a star collapsing in reverse. Everything in its path — land, air, magic, even sound — was stripped to nothing.
Kaelion moved. For the first time in the battle, he summoned a barrier — a titanic shield of crystallized damnation, engraved with the screaming faces of gods long slain.
The Spiral met the Shield.
"BOOOOOM!"
The collision was like the birth of a new sun. Light and darkness intertwined, exploding outward in shockwaves that split the remaining landmasses into dust. The Saints were hurled back, some bleeding from every orifice as the force ripped through their divine protections.
When the blinding radiance faded, the battlefield was silent.
Half of Kaelion’s body was simply gone — torn away by a force that defied the divine. His upper torso floated grotesquely in the void, like a corpse animated by sheer will. Black ichor drifted from the torn edge, evaporating into nothing before it could fall.
For the first time in countless eons, Kaelion’s expression was not arrogant... but shaken.
"A Saint... was able to harm me...? This is impossible. Gods are invincible. They cannot be killed."
Igaris’ gaze deepened, his eyes swallowing the light until only twin voids remained. His voice, low and steady, carried across the ruined fragments of Orca.
"No. Even gods bleed. You’ve just never met your true opponent. At my prime, you so-called Supreme Gods were nothing but dust beneath my feet... so fighting you now, even as a Saint, is nothing but a chore."
The words sank into Kaelion like a blade of ice. It was not the tone of a boast — it was a recollection, a statement of fact.
Kaelion’s voice trembled. "Wh... who are you?"
Igaris stepped forward, each movement measured, his presence swelling until even the drifting continents seemed to recoil.
"I am the Overlord. The only one Supreme of Supremes in this universe."
He stopped, his shadow stretching across the void, eyes locked onto Kaelion’s half-ruined form.
"And you... are... my... enemy."
Each word dragged out like a sentence of execution, laced with simmering hatred and a coldness that pierced bone and soul alike. The Saints watching from afar felt their knees weaken, their hearts screaming at them to flee.
And for the first time in his immortal existence, Kaelion understood — he was standing before something far beyond godhood.
Kaelion’s trembling gaze darted across the void. The drifting landmasses, the shattered spine of the World Orca, the silent Saints watching from a distance — all meaningless compared to the abyss staring back at him from Igaris’ eyes.
For the first time, the God of Damnation felt the creeping touch of fear.
"You... monster..." Kaelion hissed, ichor spilling from his mouth. His divine aura flared violently, not in dominance, but in desperation. A sphere of corrupted light erupted around him, swallowing what little remained of his lower body.
Without warning, his form warped, dissolving into streaks of black lightning that tore a hole through the void. The rift screamed as it sealed itself, leaving behind only the stench of burned divinity.
Igaris didn’t move. His eyes remained fixed on the fading distortion where Kaelion had vanished. The silence pressed heavy over the drifting continents.
The Saints watching from afar dared not even whisper. The fact that a god had fled — not retreated, but fled — would echo through the cosmos like a curse.
Igaris finally exhaled, his voice cold enough to freeze the stars.
"Run as far as you want, Kaelion. Even if you hide at the edge of creation... I will find you."
And the void seemed to shudder at the promise.