The war that had raged for days, turning the world into a graveyard, ended within the next hour. The moment the Forbidden Goddess perished, her cursed power ceased to exist, and the demons lost all coordination, their dark essence unraveling into nothingness. Without their queen, they were nothing but scattered beasts, desperately trying to flee.
Yet, there was no escape.
Elarin, the sword sovereign, led a battalion of elite warriors, cleaving through the remaining demon lords. His golden spear gleamed under the blood-soaked sky as he struck down thousands of demons with every sweep. “Do not let a single one live! The suffering they brought upon the world must be answered!” she roared.
At the same time, Zi God Dragon Ancestor, descended from the skies, his massive draconic body blotting out the sun. With one mighty breath, he unleashed a storm of divine fire, incinerating entire legions of demons.
“Your fate was sealed the moment you chose to serve destruction! Mighty Dragon race, heed my command, burn the battlefield.” Zi’s voice thundered, shaking the ground itself.
The War God’s army marched relentlessly, their divine blades cutting through the demon horde like wheat before the scythe. Their golden robes shimmered, their movements flawless, the discipline of a thousand battles guiding their hands.
“For the fallen! For the future!” they chanted as they eradicated every last trace of demonic corruption.
The Storm Knights, adorned in his black armor crackling with lightning, led a charge through the escaping demons. Their elemental swords pulsed with the might of a thousand storms.
“Cowards will not be spared! Face your judgment!” The Storm Knight slashed his blade, sending arcs of divine lightning surging through the air, striking down all those who attempted to flee.
And just like that, the war came to a sudden, eerie halt. The battlefield, once a raging storm of chaos, was now an expanse of silence. Millions of demons lay lifeless, their bodies reduced to ash and bone. The once-roaring battlefield was now nothing but the sound of the wind blowing over the fallen.
All eyes turned to Kent.
He stood in the center of it all, bloodied and weakened, his breath ragged. His once-brilliant armor was in tatters, his body trembling from exhaustion. Yet, in his eyes, there was no pride, no joy—only emptiness.
One by one, the human warriors knelt. First the soldiers, then the commanders. Even the War God’s divine army, who had fought battles beyond mortal comprehension, fell to their knees.
Everyone closely knew what Kent had achieved.
The heavens trembled as the Seven Old Gods descended.
They materialized in golden light, their divine presence overshadowing the ruined battlefield. Among them stood the Three-Phased God, a being whose form constantly shifted between youth, prime, and old age. He approached Kent, his voice carrying the weight of eons.
“Mortal Kent, you have done what even we could not. The Forbidden Goddess is no more, and balance has been restored. Tell us, what do you desire? Wealth? Power? Divinity itself? Speak, and it shall be yours.”
Kent lifted his weary gaze to the god before him. A faint smile touched his lips, but it held no warmth. Without a word, he turned and began walking away.
The War God, stunned, stepped forward. “Kent, wait! You have achieved the impossible! Ask for something! A kingdom, a divine title, treasures beyond imagination! Do not let this opportunity pass!”
The Storm God also moved to intercept him. “You deserve to sit among us! You have surpassed mortals, proven yourself worthy of godhood. Take your rightful place!”
Kent stopped but did not turn around. His voice, hoarse yet firm, carried across the silent battlefield. “What great treasures do I need in this useless time? If you had helped me when I needed it, I would have knelt before you and honored all the gods for eternity. But now? Now it is all meaningless.”
A heavy silence followed his words. The gods, the warriors, even the heavens seemed to hold their breath.
Kent exhaled softly. “When the world was on the brink of annihilation, we—humans—stood alone. No god descended to save us. No divine miracle shielded our families from death. We bled. We suffered. And we survived, not because of your blessings, but because we fought with our own hands.”
The Three-Phased God sighed, his form shifting into that of an old man. “You carry much anger, Kent. But does it not prove the strength of humanity, that you stood without us?”
Kent chuckled dryly. “And that is why we no longer need you. We fought this war alone. We paid the price alone. And now, we will walk alone.”
The human soldiers rose to their feet, their faces resolute. Without hesitation, they followed Kent, turning their backs on the gods. One by one, they abandoned the battlefield, ignoring the radiant celestial beings that had once ruled over them. They had come to fight for their people, not for the approval of divine beings.
The War God clenched his fists. “This… This is madness! You are rejecting divinity itself! Do you not realize what you are throwing away?”
Kent shook his head. “No, War God. I am reclaiming what was always ours. Humanity does not need gods who stand idle. We will forge our own future.”
The gods, for the first time in eternity, stood powerless. They could do nothing but watch as the mortals walked away, choosing their own path over divine favor. Even the gods army remained silent, as if understanding the weight of what had just transpired.
The Storm God muttered, “They are leaving us behind…”
The Three-Phased God closed his eyes. “Perhaps, that is how it should be.”
As Kent and the human race disappeared into the horizon, the gods remained where they stood, the realization settling in.
The age of gods was over.
And the age of humanity had begun.
Several thoughts swirling inside Kent’s brain. There are other reasons for Kent to reject the offer of gods. He chose the path to reach the apex world with the help of Kaban King. If he accepts godhood, he will be bound to this lower-world… wasting all-life here without any-hope of eternity.
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