At the level of an epic, there is essentially nothing left to rely on. The greatest reliance of an epic is themselves. However, there are always a few exceptions.
Even after stepping into the realm of epics, a domain that all beings look up to, some still have elders of their race who are stronger than them as their backing. For most evil gods, these beings are not to be trifled with.
Evil gods are essentially loners. They have no stronger beings behind them, and some are even the reliance of other creatures.
Thus, the Desolate Evil God's mood was a mix of emotions. After discovering that his "food" had been snatched away, he had originally planned to come and take a look.
If the one who took it was a being of similar strength, he would choose to negotiate, including but not limited to resorting to force, to reclaim a portion of his lost benefits.
Yes, only a portion. The Desolate Evil God knew that demanding all of his original "food" back was unrealistic. Once an epic has taken something, they would never spit it all out.
Because he had done similar things before. While wandering the void, he had once seen another evil god destroy a world's defenses and happily devour the remnants of the shattered world.
Then, adhering to the principle of "finders keepers," the Desolate Evil God directly went up and demanded a portion of the world's remnants. After some thought, the other party agreed to his unreasonable request.
Because if they refused, the food they had worked so hard to obtain might be destroyed by the Desolate Evil God. So, rather than getting nothing, it was better to accept the loss and give away a portion.
After obtaining a portion of the world's remnants without effort, the Desolate Evil God did not become too arrogant. After all, the other party had only compromised to protect their own interests. If it were him, he would have made the same choice.
And now, he had finally encountered a similar situation. To be honest, when this extremely low-probability event happened to him, the Desolate Evil God's mood was extremely complicated.
After all, the void is vast, and the probability of two epics from different races meeting in the endless void is astonishingly low, let alone encountering an epic who is in the middle of a meal.
And when the Desolate Evil God discovered the possible identity of the epic who had taken his food, his mood became even more gloomy.
Compared to the boundless void, the number of epics is pitifully small. And among those who have stepped into the realm of epics, those who still have backing are even rarer. Yet, today, he had encountered one.
At this point, the Desolate Evil God had basically given up on the idea of reclaiming his benefits. He decided to accept his bad luck, as he did not want to have any conflict with such a being.
He was an epic with an infinite lifespan. As long as he continued to live, he had infinite possibilities. What was a lost world? What were tens of thousands of dead minions? Given time, he could obtain even more.
As for the loss of face after backing down, sorry, for an evil god who destroys worlds, he didn't know what face was. No epic would mock him for this.
Knowing that the other party was not to be trifled with, yet still rushing forward for the sake of an illusory sense of pride—that would be true stupidity, and it would truly make him a laughingstock among epics.
Boom!
The familiar light that annihilated everything erupted once again. This beam, just like the previous one, shot toward the Desolate Evil God, obliterating everything in its path.
Then, the Desolate Evil God repeated his previous reaction to the attack. He evaded once more, and as he did so, he watched as nearly a hundred thousand of his minions were lost due to his evasion and this attack.
"Why?" The Desolate Evil God questioned Muria after dodging the attack. He was truly puzzled. He didn't understand why Muria kept attacking him. Did this Son of Titans and Dragons want to force a fight with him?
But what was the point of fighting? In the Desolate Evil God's understanding, fighting was merely a means to solve problems. What could this being gain by forcing a fight with him?
The world, which had been stripped of all defenses through special means, had already been taken over by this being. He had already decided not to reclaim it and was ready to leave. What reason did this being have to attack him?
"Fight me!" Muria responded to this seemingly overly docile evil god, clearly stating his intentions.
He would not categorize this evil god as a honest and law-abiding epic just because of his conservative behavior. The layer of black mist surrounding the Desolate Evil God, which concealed his form and revealed the wailing faces of countless beings, clearly indicated what kind of existence he truly was.
This was a World Destroyer who had annihilated worlds, slaughtered billions of beings, and grown powerful through it. The reason this evil god appeared so conservative now was simply because he was facing Muria, an epic.
If Muria were not an epic but a legend, he had no doubt that this ominous being would have already ordered his minion army to charge.
It was because of his strength that this evil god appeared docile and even wronged. Without this strength, this guy would undoubtedly show him what it meant to be the enemy of all living beings, the nightmare of all things.
"Fighting is meaningless!" Feeling the fighting spirit contained in the soul message Muria sent, the Desolate Evil God expressed his confusion. He couldn't understand this behavior.
"Meaningless to you, but to me, fighting makes me stronger!"
Golden light spread around Muria's body. Under the illumination of this light, his body seemed to grow even larger, even comparable to the world beside him.
"So that's it." Hearing Muria's response, the Desolate Evil God finally understood why this being who had taken his food was so insistent on fighting him. Although there were still some things he didn't understand, it didn't hinder his next actions.
"Stop!" Muria was both shocked and amused as he watched the evil god's actions. He was actually retreating with his minion army.
"Sorry, Son of Titans and Dragons, I have no intention of being your enemy, nor do I wish to fight you. It holds no benefit for me."
The Desolate Evil God sent a cold soul message. For him, survival was the first priority, becoming stronger was the second, and his emotional needs were placed last.
No matter what he encountered, he would judge based on the order of these needs and then decide what to do next.
In the Desolate Evil God's judgment, fighting Muria threatened his first priority: survival. In this situation, his choice was undoubtedly to avoid this battle.
"Well, although you've said that, I still have to say sorry."
Faced with this evil god who was thoroughly cowardly and had no will to fight, Muria, though surprised, suppressed his urge to laugh. "This battle must be fought with me. You have no choice."
"Don't go too far."
"Too far? Not at all." Muria didn't think it was excessive to attack an evil god who had destroyed billions of beings, even if those beings had no relation to him. Of course, Muria didn't think he was acting out of some sense of justice.
As a former monarch, Muria would not associate any of his actions with justice. Everything he did was for his own benefit, including fighting this evil god.
He chose to fight the evil god because he had no psychological burden in doing so. He disliked World Destroyers, he hated all actions related to destruction, and he hated seeing beautiful things ruined.
And dislike, or mutual exclusivity, was reason enough to fight. Just like angels and demons, or the living and the undead, they never asked why they fought—they were natural enemies.
And when Muria rejected the path of world destruction and chose to gain source power by saving worlds, he became a natural enemy of World Destroyers.
"Son of Titans and Dragons, I have no intention of being your enemy, but that doesn't mean I fear you."
"If you don't fear me, then even better. Come, fight me."
Brilliant golden light spread across Muria's body. In the eyes of the Desolate Evil God, this being now seemed even larger than the world beside him.
This wasn't because Muria's body was growing, but because the world beside him was shrinking. The Desolate Evil God could clearly see this happening, and as the world shrank, he felt an intense sense of crisis descending upon him.
"What are you doing?" The Desolate Evil God felt increasingly uneasy as he saw the being who was so insistent on fighting extend his hand. The world, now shrunk to its limit, actually landed in his palm, held aloft.
"Feel the weight of the world!" Muria, holding the world in his hand, assumed a throwing posture. Golden lightning flashed across his body, and visible waves of power rippled out. At this moment, he was bearing a pressure he had never felt before—a novel experience.
Crackle!
Something that could be considered madness even for an epic happened. Muria threw the world in his hand. The world, willing to be used as a weapon by Muria, left a faint trace of light in the void before landing on the Desolate Evil God's head…
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