Doubt flickered in Herman's heart.
However, before he could dwell on it, the Sun God Ra—whose presence now seemed even more unsettling than the Ancient One's had been—let out a roar so vast it seemed to shake the entire universe.
The Ancient One, even after losing her soul, had at least been capable of coherent speech. But this Ra, stripped of his soul, was nothing more than a beast driven mad. After millennia of confinement, the surge of emotion at his sudden release erupted like a storm.
The deafening roar carried unimaginable power. The air itself trembled as waves of chaotic solar energy rippled outward. Heaven and earth quaked beneath the cry of the Egyptian Sun God, and cracks began to spread through the already fragile pocket dimension.
Fiery solar energy spilled out in torrents, igniting the very fabric of space. The world looked like a burning tapestry, sparks flaring across its edges.
"Ah!"
A faint scream—so small it was swallowed by the thunderous roar—escaped from Evelyn, the only mortal present.
Just as humans would descend into madness when confronted by an eldritch god, the divine fury of Ra was far beyond what a mortal body could endure.
Even though Evelyn had once been a princess of ancient Egypt in a past life, the being before her was the supreme god once worshipped by her entire dynasty. Even protected within Herman's divine barrier, she was instantly rendered unconscious by the force of his presence.
Of course, she suffered no real harm—only stunned by a sound that surpassed human limits. The divine shield had done its job.
Without it, Ra's maddened roar would have shattered both her body and soul into dust.
Humans must never gaze directly upon a god.
This truth applied not only to the beings of the Cthulhu Mythos but to any deity powerful enough to see humanity as insignificant.
And the Sun God Ra, with his blood-red, frenzied eyes, was far beyond reason. There was no trace of pity left in him—not even for the humans who had once been his followers.
Herman suspected that Ra had long since forgotten his divine nature, let alone the mortals who once served the gods of ancient Egypt.
Perhaps Evelyn's fainting was for the best. The poor girl had endured enough horror for one day. In some ways, unconsciousness was a mercy.
"Above the Sky Father, yet below a Universal-level being... Could this be the result of a failed ascension?" Herman speculated silently, analyzing Ra's condition through the fluctuations of his divine power.
"Never thought I'd actually run into someone stuck at half a step into the Universal level. Seriously, who comes up with terms like 'half-step realm'? It's ridiculous."
He muttered inwardly, half amused, half exasperated.
Ra's power had clearly surpassed the Sky Father tier, yet it hadn't reached the threshold of a true Universal-class entity. That was his current state.
To be fair, the term "half-step Universal-level" was so absurd that even Herman couldn't help but mock it. If such a concept appeared in a novel, readers would probably flood the author with complaints about nonsense power-scaling.
Even fantasy stories wouldn't buy something like that.
But the Marvel Universe had never been known for its clear hierarchy of power, so anomalies like this weren't exactly rare—or unexpected.
Still, Ra's strength was far beyond any Sky Father.
He had already surpassed Odin, the All-Father of Asgard. How this power compared to the ancient Egyptian god himself remained to be seen.
But one thing was certain—this was the strongest opponent Herman had encountered so far. Every cell in his body seemed to come alive with anticipation.
He was not one to shy away from a challenge.
In truth, it had been far too long since he had met an opponent capable of pressuring him. That, to Herman, was not a satisfying way to live.
Without facing overwhelming battles, how could one ever recognize their limits?
Just as a life of endless calm was never truly fulfilling.
"I am the Creator God! This world was given to me! You... are mine too!"
The ancient Egyptian sun god Ra was mad—completely, hopelessly mad.
Still, his language hadn't entirely collapsed into incoherence. His words carried traces of meaning, though distorted by delusion, and to Herman, they were simply laughable.
A Creator God?
The One Above All would probably give him a thumbs-up for that one.
In countless mythologies, the highest gods were often exalted as creators, but such titles were usually just poetic exaggerations by their believers—faith wrapped in embellishment. Few deities ever truly believed themselves omnipotent enough to forge existence itself.
Even Odin, for instance, would humbly claim to be nothing more than a powerful alien—a statement with the same flavor as "I'm not interested in money."
But that humility said enough.
Most god-kings, no matter how worshiped, retained some degree of self-awareness. They knew they lacked the power to create entire worlds.
This deranged sun god, however, boldly proclaiming himself the Creator, was in a class of narcissism all his own.
"Even if you were the Creator God... you're not my creator," Herman said coldly, showing not a trace of reverence toward the ancient Egyptian deity.
Aside from being a Sky Father–level god himself, Herman's very origin placed him outside this universe entirely.
Even if the One-Above-All appeared before him, it couldn't claim to be his creator.
"I will devour you!"
Ra could only snarl incoherently, his chaotic words spilling out like primal instinct, paying no heed to Herman's retort.
"That's a foolish notion."
The divine flame burned in Herman's eyes.
Having absorbed the power of Seth, the God of War, his strength had increased greatly. Beneath his black battle robes, his aura flared, cracking the very fabric of space under its weight. The pocket dimension of the City of Kings began to crumble, unable to withstand the clash of two beings of such immense power.
"Let's see who devours whom."
As Ra's golden eyes fixed upon him, Herman acted first. If Ra intended to consume him, then Herman had no reason not to covet Ra's divine essence in return.
A burst of radiance erupted—golden light, brighter and purer than Ra's own, blazed through the void. Divine power surged and wove itself into countless colossal chains that shot outward, forming a net vast enough to blot out the heavens as it ensnared the sun god.
Ra's body loomed higher than any mountain, yet those countless divine chains locked tightly around him, sealing him in place.
If Ra's power fell short, he would soon be refined and erased within the bindings of Herman's divine might.
"ROAR!"
The Sun God bellowed in fury. His twin eyes, blazing like miniature suns, burned even redder, and the golden divine light across his body began to shimmer with a crimson hue.
That corrupted, blood-tinted energy exploded from within him, and the divine chains forged by Herman began to groan under the strain. As Ra's power raged, the chains splintered—tiny cracks spreading rapidly across their gleaming surfaces.
It was clear now.
Though Herman's power had grown immensely, he was still bound to the Sky Father tier. Against a being like Ra, even his god-devouring energy wasn't enough to completely restrain him.
As the countless golden chains began to shatter, Herman frowned.
The next instant, an overwhelming surge of deathly power poured from him, blotting out light itself. Black energy—ancient and corrosive—raced along the divine chains, carrying the essence of decay and the authority to end all life, reaching Ra's blazing form.
Black and gold collided, intertwining into a terrifying dual seal. Though Ra's life force wasn't fully stripped away, it was crushed under the oppressive weight of death.
For a moment, the raging Sun God was once again forced down—slammed violently into the void, buried beneath Herman's suffocating power.
"BOOM!"
As energy rampaged, it tore apart what little remained of the collapsing pocket dimension.
With a deep, thunderous crash, the City of the Dead—the eternal necropolis that had existed for countless ages—was completely annihilated under the combined onslaught of Herman and the ancient Egyptian sun god Ra.
Spatial turbulence erupted. Chaotic currents capable of shredding even quasi–Sky Father beings surged wildly, though fortunately, Evelyn—protected within her energy shield—remained unscathed.
Amid the swirling maelstrom, Ra continued to struggle and roar. The golden and black chains, born from the fusion of their powers, wound around each other, producing a force far greater than the sum of its parts.
"I can't absorb his life force? It's... locked at a fixed state?" Herman realized his black death energy couldn't effectively destroy Ra's vitality. This was the first time since mastering that power that he had encountered such a phenomenon.
He couldn't tell whether it was due to Ra's divine rank or the strange crimson energy mixed within his power.
But Herman's instincts screamed that it was the latter... that red energy was the very essence of chaos and madness.
"If I can't destroy your life... then I'll drag you into my realm instead!"
As Ra's body writhed against the chains, Herman made his decision. In the unseen plane, the grand gate to the [Realm of the Dead] materialized before him.
The colossal gate, carved with the true sigils of death, loomed even larger than Ra himself. A cold, dreadful aura flowed from its surface, reeking of decay and divine finality.
"Enter my Realm alive if you wish—but you'll still become my nourishment!" Herman's intent was clear: to use the [Realm of the Dead] to devour Ra completely.
Under his command, the golden divine power and black death energy contracted toward the Gate of Death, dragging the struggling sun god closer and closer to its abyssal threshold. Within the swirling vortex atop the gate, a desolate, frozen wasteland came into view.
Inside, countless tortured souls wailed in eternal agony.
"ROAR!"
Ra howled even louder. His immense body trembled violently, his unleashed power so immense it could have shattered a planet into dust had there been one nearby.
Fortunately, in the void of collapsing space, there were no worlds left to destroy.
Crack—crack—crack!
Ra's roars grew wilder, his power surging higher with every pulse. The energy waves rolling off him grew more terrifying by the second. Though his mind was gone, primal instinct screamed that the gate ahead was death incarnate.
"I won't go in!"
His fragmented speech echoed through the void, yet his instincts were not mistaken.
A god without a soul—by nature—was already dead.
If Ra were dragged into the [Realm of the Dead], even his strength would be meaningless. Under the total suppression of that divine domain, he would never rise again—condemned to true death, enslaved forever by the realm's will.
"Death! Death! Death! You are Anubis! Traitor! How dare you raise your hand against your supreme god!"
Whether it was the threat of the [Realm of the Dead] or something else, Ra suddenly regained a flicker of awareness and roared at Herman—a rare, lucid outburst.
Of course, the deranged sun god had clearly mistaken his opponent. He might have regained some clarity, but it wasn't much.
To mistake Herman for Anubis was absurd. Though both wielded dominion over death, their laws were fundamentally different.
"Traitor! I'll devour you! I'll devour this world! I was meant to devour the world! The whole world is mine!"
The crimson light in Ra's eyes blazed hotter, his rage fed by the delusion that Herman was his rebellious servant.
Indeed, the betrayal of a subordinate deity would enrage any god-king—and that misplaced fury ignited something far worse.
Just as the Gate of Death's pull intensified, Ra's body erupted in crimson flames.
That twisted power grew stronger the madder he became. His aura surged upward by several levels, the pressure shaking the void itself.
With Ra's power exploding once more, the divine chains Herman had woven from gold and black energy shattered instantly into a storm of starlight.
"BOOM!"
The colossal god moved.
"You dare offend the Supreme! I will devour you!"
Freed from his bindings, Ra lunged forward, striking where Herman had stood moments before—but failed to crush him.
"Up here."
Ra's fury deepened as his senses flared. Raising his massive head, he saw Herman, robed in black, hovering high above him. In his hand, a spear of radiant gold shimmered with lethal light.
"You may have once been the supreme god of your pantheon," Herman said coolly, "but to me, you're nothing more than a stepping stone toward my own ascension."
He poured an immense surge of divine power into Gungnir, the Spear of Eternity, and hurled it downward—its trajectory absolute, its strike inevitable.
Its target: Ra's burning red eyes, the very source of his madness.