The blood-red sun was too massive, covering nearly the entire town of Talros—there was nowhere to run.
By the time the others realized what was happening, the crimson orb was already just a few hundred meters from the ground.
In an instant, both the cultists of the Cult of the End and the knights of the Clinton Empire lost their nerve.
"Isaac, you lunatic!" Even Victor, normally composed to a fault, couldn't stop himself from cursing aloud.
There was no time to say more. A burst of golden light exploded beneath his feet as he fled the battlefield at top speed.
Even his strength couldn't withstand the destructive power of the Spear of Annihilation. He had no choice but to save himself. As for the others…
Victor had already begun calculating the compensation he would demand from the Empire.
"Idiot." Isaac sneered, lifting his hand.
A jet-black chain, like a venomous snake, lashed through the air—hurtling toward the fleeing Victor.
Before the battle, the Empire had given Isaac explicit instructions: not only was he to eliminate the remnants of the Cult of the End, but the members of the Cult of the Dawn were not to be spared either.
The stronger the divine sects became, the weaker the royal family's grip on the Empire. This was their chance to wipe out both major religions in one move.
And if it cost tens of thousands of knights to achieve that goal?
So be it.
"Damn royal family!" At this point, how could Victor not realize he'd walked straight into a trap?
But it was too late.
He didn't even have time to dodge—the chain coiled tightly around him.
In an instant, his aura vanished. His body dropped from the sky like a stone.
"That's the Demonbinding Chains?!" someone cried out in shock.
The chain Isaac had used was also a Sealing Relic, known as Demonbinding Chains—a Tier-3 artifact.
Its sole power: sealing the abilities of any Extraordinary Being of Super Level or lower.
It had been prepared by the Clinton royal family specifically for Victor.
"Clever bastards." Fursa's eyes went cold. It was clear now—they wanted to kill two birds with one stone and wipe them all out in one fell swoop.
But still—he wasn't flustered in the slightest.
A faint smirk appeared at the corner of Fursa's lips. He turned toward the panicked cultists and said calmly:
"Do not fear. Our Lord will save us."
At his words, the cultists felt a strange peace settle over their hearts.
That's right. Even if they couldn't handle Isaac—their Lord could.
"Hahaha, is that all you've got? Begging your god to save you at the end of the line?" Isaac laughed mockingly, thoroughly amused. He truly found these cultists adorably pathetic.
But just as the words left his mouth—
The world trembled.
The earth shook so violently that everyone momentarily lost their footing.
Before they could even process what had happened, a pair of massive bronze hands appeared from thin air, blotting out the sky.
And in the next instant—
With Isaac staring up in stunned disbelief, those hands slapped the Spear of Annihilation out of the sky like it was a toy.
BOOM!!!
A howling shockwave ripped through the battlefield. The blood-red weapon hurtled across the sky like a fallen meteor, vanishing into the distance.
The darkness shattered in an instant, replaced by the overwhelming radiance of a towering, thousand-meter-tall bronze Divine Idol.
A divine presence like a tidal wave blanketed the ruined town. Everyone—knights, cultists, even Isaac—could only stare up in awe.
And atop that godlike idol's head stood two figures, their silhouettes etched against the sky.
One of them wore flowing white robes that fluttered in the wind.
The other was a tall young man in a bronze mask, unmoved and unshaken, gazing coldly down at the battlefield below.
Standing just behind him, the Holy Maiden of the Cult of the End—Nara—bowed her head in silence, like a servant awaiting orders.
"Is something funny to you?"
The young man held the Scepter of the End in one hand, his gaze lowered as he looked down upon them.
His tone was cold, aloof—like a god looking down on mortals.
Who was he?
Both Isaac and Victor felt a chill creep into their hearts.
Anyone who could make Holy Maiden Nara stand behind them like a handmaid was clearly no ordinary man.
And yet—among all the powerful figures in the Cult of the End, not one matched this face.
They knew every notable name in the cult.
This person… had never appeared before.
As confusion gnawed at their thoughts—
The words that followed from Fursa and the others were like a lightning bolt to the skull.
They watched as Fursa, Castor, Quito, and every single cultist—without hesitation—dropped to their knees before the young man.
Their eyes were full of reverence as they cried out in unison:
"We greet the Lord!"
The shout echoed across the town like a thunderclap.
The Lord?!
That single phrase exploded inside the hearts of everyone present.
The soldiers of the Clinton Empire.
The priests and warriors of the Cult of the Dawn.
All of them stared, stunned, at the masked youth.
They thought they'd misheard.
They hoped they had.
But as their gazes met Dusk's—
A terrifying possibility began to form in their minds.
"No… it can't be…"
Victor stared at Dusk in disbelief, his voice barely a whisper.
The Godforsaken Continent had not seen a divine miracle in over ten thousand years.
How could a true god have descended now?
And even more unthinkable—
The one who had come… was a Malevolent Deity?!
"Impossible!"
Even Isaac could no longer sit still. He glared at Dusk standing atop the bronze Divine Idol, and roared:
"Who the hell are you?! What trick are you playing?! Do you even know what kind of consequences you'll face for this?! I suggest you—"
"Shut your mouth."
Dusk's gaze turned icy. He didn't move. He didn't even raise his hand.
But beneath him, the bronze Divine Idol responded instantly, as if receiving a divine command.
One of its massive hands swept down from the heavens with unstoppable might—
And slammed straight toward Isaac.
"Damn it!"
Isaac's face twisted in alarm. He raised his greatsword, a torrent of crimson energy exploding outward as he slashed up with all his strength.
BOOM!!
A blood-red arc—dozens of meters long—collided with the descending bronze palm.
The sky rippled. Bloodlight exploded.
The shockwave was devastating, but it wasn't enough.
The blade shattered. The crimson energy dispersed.
The Divine Idol's bronze hand, though now missing half its fingers, didn't even pause.
It crashed directly into Isaac's body.
"Urghh!!"
A spray of blood erupted from his mouth as his body flew back like a broken kite.
Cracks ran down his legendary armor, spreading like a spiderweb.
But Dusk was not finished.
The Divine Idol lifted one foot—
And stomped down toward Isaac's broken figure.
Isaac had already suffered a grievous blow. He had no time to roll away.
He could only watch, helplessly, as the giant's shadow engulfed him.
BOOOOM!!
The ground split open. Buildings crumbled. Dust choked the air.
A bloodcurdling scream tore through the sky.
Isaac's bones shattered. He couldn't even lift his head, let alone crawl away.
The so-called War God of the Empire was reduced to a wreck—utterly broken.
Even within the Super Level, there were clear differences in power.
The Divine Idol, summoned through the Divine Phantom Mask, possessed strength at the absolute pinnacle of Super Level.
And Isaac—despite being a renowned warlord—
Was nothing more than a bug to be crushed beneath its heel.
Just to be safe, Dusk had the Divine Idol grind its foot a little more.
And so, under the eyes of every stunned soul present, they all witnessed it:
The Empire's legendary War God…
The Super Level champion—
Isaac—
Crushed into the dirt like an insect.
Crushed to death underfoot!
As the bronze giant lifted its foot, all that remained in the deep crater was a puddle of blood and mud.
The one-sided battle immediately turned the moment Dusk appeared.
Seeing this, the Cult of the End followers erupted in wild joy!
"Lord's power is unmatched!!" They screamed, feeling as though the greatest blessing of their lives was being part of the Cult of the End.
On the other side, the Cult of the Dawn was in complete despair. Some even began to think about retreating.
No matter who this person was—whether the Lord of the End or not—he was not something they could defeat.
No one wanted to die, especially not senselessly.
Panic spread quickly.
The Clinton Empire knights and the Cult of the Dawn's soldiers, without a word, began to fall back.
Meanwhile, Victor, who had lost Isaac's control, finally broke free of the Demonbinding Chains at this moment.
He had witnessed everything.
This elderly man, covered in dust with his hair turning gray, made the wisest choice of his long life in that moment.
Without a second thought, he turned and fled!
He gathered all his magic and his body transformed into a streak of golden light, shooting straight toward the horizon. He didn't care about the cultists of the Cult of the Dawn behind him who were screaming for help.
"So, this is what's called a righteous order?"
Seeing this, Dusk couldn't help but chuckle.
The laughter was filled with open contempt and disdain.
Had this red-clad Bishop been willing to risk his life to fight him for the sake of these followers, he might have had some respect for this so-called "righteous" religion.
But right now, this man didn't hesitate for a second. He abandoned everyone and ran.
This, in turn, revealed a simple truth:
There was no real difference between a so-called righteous religion and a cult. The only distinction was that the former wore a more appealing disguise.
The actions of the Empire's War God earlier had proved this point.
Even the tens of thousands of soldiers fighting for them could be discarded as pawns by the Imperial Family at a whim. How could they possibly care about ordinary people?
When even the powerful figures of these two top forces lacked any sense of humanity, it proved that the "righteous" order of this world was probably only righteous in a relative sense, rather than being a pure force meant to lead people toward goodness or salvation.
Once he understood that, killing them didn't weigh on his conscience at all.
Right or wrong? That was for him to decide.
At this moment, Fursa soared into the air and respectfully asked,
"Lord, should we pursue?"
Dusk noticed that Fursa's gaze toward him was now full of awe—genuine awe, not the previous formality.
This was exactly what he had hoped for.
The primary purpose of intervening this time, aside from eliminating the enemy, was to intimidate his own people and solidify his position.
After a brief pause for thought, he replied,
"Don't worry about the ordinary people. Bring that red-clad Bishop of the Cult of the Dawn back to me."
Killing these ordinary people was meaningless, but that red-clad Bishop had to die.
If you're going to kill, aim for the higher-ups. Once the leadership is wiped out, these ordinary people will no longer pose any threat.
Upon hearing this, Fursa immediately accepted the command,
"Understood, my Lord. I will go bring back that old dog, Victor!"
With that, he transformed into a streak of black light and swiftly pursued the fleeing Victor.
Dusk and Nara stood atop the bronze Divine Idol's hand, slowly descending to the ground.
Ignoring everyone else, he walked over to where Isaac had been crushed to death, leaning forward to peer into the pit.
The shattered armor, the mixture of blood and dirt, no longer resembled a human form.
It was truly disgusting.
Suppressing his discomfort, Dusk focused his mind.
A Parchment appeared in the air before him.
"I've brought what you asked for. How do we proceed with the exchange?" he inquired.
After a long pause, a line of text slowly appeared on the Parchment.
[What use is a dead body to me?]
[I want it alive!]