### Chapter: 422
Ashen flames rippled across the area.
The humans had sensed Kraush’s blow and were already trying to dodge.
However, a few gods weren’t quick enough and ended up meeting their end in the chaos.
On top of the corpses of the fallen gods, a thick gray mist filled the surroundings.
Normally, one would sharpen their senses due to the obscured visibility, but
Kraush didn’t need to do that right now.
Because inside that fog,
the starlight of Gwaejon was clearly felt.
‘Here it comes.’
The moment he sensed that, Gwaejon burst through the smoke, appearing right before Kraush.
With a flash of starlight, he launched a super-fast slashing attack.
Kraush instantly parried the sword that had come right in front of him.
Clang!
The sound of swords clashing resonated, shaking both the air and the ground simultaneously.
The collision of the two was practically a natural disaster at this point.
Nearby gods and humans stepped back, fearing they would get swept up in the chaos.
In the meantime, Kraush quickly assessed Gwaejon’s condition.
At point-blank range, he unleashed an explosive burst of power.
Naturally, Gwaejon wasn’t unscathed either.
His withering body resembled that of an ancient tree, charred and riddled with burn marks.
Notably, he had sustained a significant blow to his chest, leaving a dent.
After all the time spent, Gwaejon’s body had become frail and frazzled.
If it were a body in its prime, it might have been a different story.
At this state, even if the gods enhanced their regenerative abilities, it would still be slow due to the natural lifespan constraints.
‘Considering he fought both my father and the Empress of the Empire before,’
Gwaejon’s body had likely seen most of its lifespan consumed by then.
His clashes with the Sanctuary’s two were a significant drain for him as well.
Yet, Gwaejon was still moving nimbly.
The God of War inhabiting him wouldn’t care if Gwaejon died;
It was here for a purpose, assaulting Kraush relentlessly, regardless of how much more damage Gwaejon’s body could sustain.
‘Death means nothing to me. It’s all about this!’
Kraush deflected Gwaejon’s sword once more, taking a breath.
On his sword, his techniques and glowing sword light began to shine more vividly.
The swords of Gwaejon and Kraush danced back and forth like a wild melody.
Gwaejon’s swordsmanship was truly unfathomable, honed through countless experiences in the realms of the universe.
He executed techniques no ordinary human could possibly replicate.
The sword painted the skies.
The sword upturned the earth.
Techniques that transformed the very fabric of nature were unleashed by Gwaejon.
At first, Kraush was simply focused on keeping up with Gwaejon’s blows.
Even as Kraush entered the realm of skills,
in pure swordsmanship, he was quite obviously at a disadvantage.
Gwaejon’s sword techniques had reached the pinnacle of the essence of a true warrior.
Kraush couldn’t help but admire the mastery of Gwaejon’s swordsmanship.
However, aside from that, Kraush was gradually closing the gap with Gwaejon.
Gwaejon’s eyebrows knitted in disbelief.
Initially, Kraush had been struggling just to block his sword.
How was he suddenly keeping pace with Gwaejon’s swordsmanship in this short period?
Had Kraush grown during the battle?
Unfortunately for Gwaejon, no—Kraush lacked that kind of talent.
Once looked down upon as a disgrace in Balheim,
Kraush had only instincts forged by life experiences and instincts to rely upon.
Everything from Kraush’s strength to his situational judgment sprung from hard-earned effort and experience.
And right now,
it was that essence of effort that made Kraush formidable.
Before regression, in the generations of the sky, Kraush had seen more skills than anyone else.
While others focused solely on their own skills,
Kraush noted those of others since he had lacked strength himself.
So, should a time of emergency arise, he could utilize new directions of others’ skills to survive.
Kraush constantly pondered and considered every situation.
His ability to rapidly adapt and capitalize on skills after regression stemmed from the information he had accumulated over time.
Of course, even a brain as sharp as Kraush’s had limits in skill application.
Realizing this, he melded the stolen techniques he had taken in the past into one skill.
But that didn’t mean Kraush forgot any of the skills he had claimed.
Kraush’s eyes read Gwaejon’s moves.
The eyes that pierced through lies and predicted the future gathered information independently.
Kraush accelerated his movement, enhancing his speed through winds created by his legs.
He reinforced his blood and muscles and increased the strength of his bones, maximizing his body’s efficiency.
His field of vision expanded, and he endowed each finger with attributes, widening his coping techniques.
Judgment, cognition—all aspects began to be maximized through the effects of his skills.
Kraush’s Ignis surged violently through his entirety.
The wind fueled the flames of Ignis even more, while the wood rapidly rejuvenated, becoming kindling.
A bolt of lightning descended from the clouds, adding more power to the flames.
Ice and water cooled his body to prolong the heat generated from his Ignis.
Kraush was currently applying a total of 183 skills simultaneously.
And that number was still on the rise.
Kraush’s sword technique was becoming more refined by the moment.
He didn’t possess the very essence of true martial arts.
Thus, in opposition to Gwaejon’s mastery, Kraush utilized everything he had to the maximum.
His fierce, toxic determination ignited.
Clang! Clang!
Kraush’s sword grew fiercer.
The tide began to turn—now, Gwaejon found himself on the defensive.
Gradually, Kraush was engulfing Gwaejon’s strikes in his own.
Kraush marked the path before him, snatching the space in which Gwaejon could swing his sword.
Gwaejon’s eyes widened.
With Gwaejon’s martial arts mastery elevated to the divine level through the incursion of the God of War, his sword stood at the pinnacle of gods.
Yet here, one human before him
was transcending that with a glut of skills combined with an unwavering determination.
Gwaejon’s eyes sparkled with disbelief.
Applying this many skills at once was undoubtedly a tremendous burden for Kraush.
Skills are the embodiment of each god’s unique magic.
It stands to reason they are all different, each requiring a distinct line of thought to navigate.
But Kraush pressed on, pushing through the pain of his bursting head.
Soon enough, Gwaejon realized how Kraush was applying these skills.
‘Curse.’
In his body dwelled the curse of the four seasons.
It swallowed the skills and then expelled them into Kraush’s body.
The advantage of the four seasons curse lay in its ability to prevent his body from breaking irrespective of whatever strain it faced.
Thanks to that, even as Kraush felt incredible pressure from simultaneously operating skills, he would not break.
Yet, it was ultimately Kraush’s mental fortitude that bore the burden.
Gwaejon looked at him like he was an insane human.
[ Are you even human? ]
Was this really the level of determination a human could possess?
Kraush’s conviction reached Gwaejon’s essence of martial arts.
“Well then.”
As he poured his breath into deflecting Gwaejon’s sword, Kraush’s eyes reflected the crimson starlight of the deadly star.
“What’s it to you?”
Kraush shot back, deflecting Gwaejon’s sword and sending him staggering.
Gwaejon realized
he could no longer withstand Kraush’s strikes.
The star that had taken form inside Kraush now filled Gwaejon’s vision.
[ No. ]
Gwaejon corrected Kraush’s statement.
[ One day, you’ll come to see for yourself. ]
The Divine Spirit dwelling in Gwaejon affirmed it,
proclaiming with certainty that Kraush would soon reach the divine realm.
And surely, he would level that sword at Gwaejon himself.
[ God of Thieves. ]
The God of War’s eyes twisted in disdain.
[ What are you creating? ]
There was no one present to answer that question.
Kraush’s sword took form, flames of ash emanating from it with ferocity.
The ashen fire released intense heat, melting everything around him.
The God of War detached from Gwaejon.
Realizing he couldn’t remain in the Middle Realm any longer, he took his leave.
In the vacuum left by the God of War’s departure,
Gwaejon slowly lowered his sword.
Kraush beheld Gwaejon’s face.
He was wearing a grotesque smile.
Like an old monster who had never met its demise and somehow managed to survive for this long in a coffin.
He loosened his grip on the sword he had held.
“If I only had been younger, I would’ve welcomed you with open arms.”
Kraush’s eyes widened.
Though he thought he had completely lost Gwaejon to the God of War,
the former deity’s spirit still lingered within, observing the situation.
“The essence of the martial arts and the essence of effort.”
Gwaejon mourned, gazing at the ashen sun descending before him.
“I should have known where it would end.”
He had laid down his sword long ago.
“It must now be left to the future generations.”
Thus, he resolved to no longer torment the future and decided to conclude his lengthy life.
Annihilation Erosion
Tens of Techniques
Annihilation of Flames
And at last, the ashen sun engulfed Gwaejon.
The creature that once stood atop the world as the greatest would dissolve before another peak, meeting its end.
As the flames dwindled,
Kraush puffed out a heated breath and lifted his head.
Kraush’s eyes locked onto the astonished gods watching him.
They never even entertained the possibility that Gwaejon, possessed by the God of War, could be defeated.
And it was the humans that pierced through their bewilderment.
Before the gods could recover their composure, the humans launched their offensive.
One by one, the gods crumbled.
Losing the last pillar of the God of War,
they found themselves utterly powerless against the humans.
Kraush shifted his gaze away from them.
Where his eyes landed was the door Gwaejon had been guarding.
An enigmatic door,
yet Kraush had overheard some fragments of the gods’ discussions.
The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
They were speaking of that door as a means of entry.
‘These mad gods.’
Kraush began to walk towards the door.
Determined to slash it down, he ignited his sword with ashes.
“Wait, Kraush.”
Suddenly, Arthur stepped into Kraush’s path.
“Arthur?”
As Kraush questioned, Arthur gazed at the door with a bewildered look on his face.
“Something is coming.”
Something, huh? Isn’t it the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?
But judging from Arthur’s demeanor, it seemed to be something different.
If it were indeed the Four Horsemen, no one would know them better than Arthur.
“Is it dangerous?”
Kraush asked, to which Arthur turned back to him.
For some reason, there was a complexity in Arthur’s eyes.
“No, it’s more like—”
Clunk!
Before Arthur could finish his sentence, the door creaked open.
As both Arthur and Kraush’s eyes locked onto the door,
a woman with pitch-black hair peeked slowly through it.
Kraush’s eyes began to widen in recognition.
He knew exactly who she was.
“You.”
The deity who had bestowed him the Black Hood.
The God of Thieves.
She had appeared at the scene of the second Ragnarok.
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