Chapter 113: His Bestowed [Death] Prevails
The Old Man of the Mountain—Hassan-i Sabbah—his figure disappeared from the arena.
Simultaneously—
"Fear not, humans. Should the malice of the gods descend, the Old Man of the Mountain shall answer the call and appear."
The words echoed through the arena—no, correction—they reverberated throughout the entire coliseum after his departure.
"What the—"
"He lost, yet he still talks like that?"
"Answer the call? Did Heimdall not tell him that defeat here means true death, that he can't be summoned again?"
"Seems like he really didn't mention it."
The gods' side couldn't help but mock the Old Man of the Mountain for trying to look cool even in defeat.
Thus, the fourth round of the final battle between humans and gods—Ragnarök—ended in victory for the gods.
And this was the fastest conclusion yet.
Excluding the few seconds it took for the two to approach each other, the actual clash lasted less than 0.001 seconds.
Perhaps even shorter, but some gods could only perceive it to that extent.
In other words, the opponent was instantly defeated by Lord Hades.
But was a wound like this on the neck enough to be fatal?
Perhaps Lord Hades' weapon carried some special additional effect.
Especially since Lord Hades himself is the god who governs death—maybe he inflicted a curse of death, where even a minor wound would steal the target's life.
"Uh, actually, Hassan-i Sabbah didn't die."
Heimdall's sudden statement silenced the entire coliseum.
"He merely broke free from the summoning and returned to history."
He cautiously added this explanation.
And these words caused the expressions of the gods to shift.
Lord Hades seemed completely still—this familiar scene was just like the first round with Lord Thor.
Back then, everyone thought Lord Thor had won, only for his neck to be severed without him even realizing it before his head fell.
"N-No way!"
"How could this happen?"
The same outcome as Lord Thor?
However, this wound wasn't a full decapitation—it looked about the same size as the one Hassan-i Sabbah had suffered earlier.
Moreover, the blood loss wasn't as severe as the opponent's, whose artery seemed severed.
Most importantly, Lord Hades moved—he reached up and touched the wound.
This relieved the divine spectators, who had been terrified.
So, what exactly happened here?
Did the human representative Hassan-i Sabbah flee?
"It seems Lord Hades has won."
The God of War, Ares, clenched his fist excitedly and swung it through the air.
The human on the opposite side had clearly fled in terror.
If they were to face off again, the opponent's head would undoubtedly be pierced by Lord Hades' spear.
"No, this isn't right! Lord Hades' expression is all wrong!"
Hermes, standing nearby, wore an even graver expression.
Lord Hades' expression wasn't that of a victor, nor was it one of dissatisfaction at the opponent's escape, as Ares had described.
Instead, it was one of contentment—as if he were thoroughly satisfied with the duel.
In other words... had they truly fought to a draw? Were they evenly matched?
"Evenly matched?"
Even Zeus couldn't help but frown.
Logically, a battle between two sides could only end with one party's death—there was no such thing as a tie.
But the situation before them was perplexing. Both sides had exchanged only a single strike, with no intention of a second, resulting in a stalemate?
No!
Zeus suddenly remembered—Hades' technique of feeding his divine weapon with his own blood wasn't merely to enhance its physical attack power.
If, from the very beginning, he had been in perfect condition—uninjured—and had injected nearly all of his blood into the weapon, leaving only the bare minimum needed to sustain a single attack, his divine weapon would gain a special ability: the power to bestow [Death].
Once a target was struck, no matter how minor the wound, they would inevitably be marked by [Death].
Of course, if this strike missed, Hades would be left completely defenseless, like a fish on a chopping block.
So then, the vanished Hassan-i-Sabbah, though he hadn't died immediately on the spot, must have realized he had been marked by the concept of [Death]. That was why he chose to return to history.
Did he want to see his own era one last time before turning to cosmic dust?
"Huh? You want me to confirm Hassan-i-Sabbah's condition? Is that it? Understood."
Heimdall, standing on the arena platform, received a call from Zeus and was briefed on the situation.
So... did this mean victory belonged to the gods?
Then it was time for him to resume his duties as the announcer.
Though, come to think of it, this match had ended far too quickly, leaving him no time for live commentary.
"Does everyone think this was a draw? NO, let me—"
"I lost."
Lord Hades' sudden interruption made Heimdall bite his own tongue.
But right now, the pain was the least of his concerns—those words were far too shocking.
"Uh, um, Lord Hades, what—what did you say?"
Heimdall cautiously sought confirmation, wondering if he had misheard.
"I will not repeat myself."
No one could see it—even Zeus had misunderstood—but Hades alone knew the truth: he had lost.
If we were to consider the purely physical exchange of that single strike, it could be called a draw. But what was attached to that strike was something the opponent surpassed him in.
The opponent's attack carried a conceptual curse-like damage of [Death], something even he, as the God of the Underworld, could not escape.
Meanwhile, the [Death] he had inflicted upon the opponent seemed to sink like a stone into the sea.
The opponent appeared to have assimilated with death itself, possessing resistance to it, rendering his [Death] ineffective.
"More the embodiment of death than I, the title of Hades would suit you far better."
Hades uttered these words with a sigh.
His gaze drifted to a corner of the spectator stands, where a frail-looking old man, his brother, stood as if a gust of wind could topple him.
"Forgive me, Zeus. The rest is up to you."
These were the last words of Hades, King of the Underworld, before he was swallowed by [Death].