The Evil God of Desolation did not respond to Muria's taunts. Once it was clear they were enemies, there was no point in continuing the exchange. Instead, the Evil God contemplated how to defeat him… or rather, how to stall him for a while before finding an opportunity to retreat.
Although the animosity between them was confirmed, the Evil God of Desolation had no intention of fighting Muria to the death. After all, even a victory would bring no benefits, and a loss would be a tremendous setback. Avoiding a direct confrontation was the best course of action.
"Demonic Blade, come!"
Muria reached out toward his world, and a radiant golden sword shot out from it, accompanied by a sharp, resonant hum as it fell into his hand.
"Well done earlier," Muria praised, gripping the sword, which was intricately linked to his bloodline. At his words, the sword glimmered with a pulsating golden light, arcs of electricity dancing along its blade, as if it were rejoicing in his approval.
As Muria's power continued to grow, the weapon born of his being also gained a heightened sentience. However, the enhancements it now provided were no longer as significant as they once were. Its durability and unique attributes were more useful than its ability to amplify his attacks, but it was still a reliable tool.
After offering his praise, Muria wasted no more words. Holding the sword, he brought it down in a devastating slash at the Evil God. The terrifying sword beam that emerged was even more overwhelming than the one unleashed from within his world earlier.
The golden beam sliced through everything in the Evil God's field of perception, accompanied by a soul-piercing pain that warned of the catastrophic consequences should he attempt to endure the strike.
However, as a deity who had roamed the void and destroyed countless worlds, the Evil God possessed deep reserves of power. His earlier displays of apparent fear were simply calculated expressions based on weighing the odds.
"Roar!"
The Evil God let out a deafening roar as the sword beam descended toward him. Before it could strike, he extended a scythe-like limb, vastly different from the claw he had used earlier, to meet the beam that seemed capable of cleaving him in two.
Clang!
A metallic clash rang out, and in the same instant, thousands of the Evil God's quickest minions, who had been racing to join their master's fight against Muria, exploded like a field of blooming roses in the dark void. The residual sword energy spread outward, erasing every trace of these sacrifices, its destructive force unyielding even after being dispersed.
"Well played. Truly worthy of the title of Evil God." Muria raised an eyebrow as he examined the scythe-like limb. Despite his devastating strike, the limb bore only a shallow scratch. If his sword had struck the claw from earlier, it would have been severed entirely.
The scythe-limb, however, was clearly unique. Muria surmised it to be the Evil God's most durable appendage, forged from countless legendary-grade metals. Such materials were rare even in vast worlds, let alone in the smaller realms the Evil God had ravaged to amass his resources.
Muria chuckled. "But how many of these limbs can you have?"
It wasn't arrogance but a fact. Legendary-grade metals, prized even by deities and epic beings, were scarce in most realms. In vast worlds, they were rare but obtainable. In smaller worlds, they might be entirely absent, and in mid-sized worlds, one would be lucky to find a handful.
The Evil God, unable to approach vast worlds due to his destructive nature, had no access to their resources. The creation of this singular scythe-limb likely came at the expense of countless destroyed worlds.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
As the Evil God coldly observed, more weapons emerged from Muria's being—each one as formidable as the sword in his hand. Nine weapons in total floated behind Muria, seemingly mocking the Evil God with their overwhelming presence.
The sight confirmed the Evil God's worst fears: Muria was untouchable. The sheer quantity of legendary materials he wielded suggested he hailed from a vast world, backed by an unimaginably powerful group.
This fight was unwinnable. Even if he managed to fight, it needed to end swiftly so he could escape. Unlike Muria, who grew more eager for battle, the Evil God grew more composed. He knew all too well the difference between those with backing and those without. If he perished, no one would avenge him; his existence would simply be erased. But if Muria were to fall, an ancient epic entity would likely rise to exact retribution.
"Hahaha! Come and fight!" Muria, his Titan blood ablaze with battle lust, stood clad in his radiant armor, one hand gripping his Demonic Blade, the other holding his Trident of Dominion. A vast sea of golden blood energy surged behind him.
Before the battle could commence, however, a divine crimson flame broke through the golden sea and descended beside Muria.
At this sight, the Evil God's mindset shattered. Facing one epic progeny was bad enough, but now another had arrived…
"Damn it! What's going on today?" The Evil God cursed inwardly, his frustration boiling over.
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