Chapter 830: A Grand Drama of Filial Piety; Little Ji, Go Tear His Head Off
"Not here either."
Artosh frowned, a rare flicker of genuine confusion crossing his usually impassive, divine features. He swept his gaze across the shattered landscape, searching for the familiar, violent mana signatures of the Flugel. Nothing. Not a single trace of his vanguard remained.
Additionally, his sweeping divine senses had picked up a bizarre anomaly across the war-torn continent. As he scoured the territories of the other Exceed races, he noticed a glaring absence. Countless females from various species had vanished into thin air. The realization made him pause, his mind drifting back to his own missing Flugel. Perhaps they hadn't abandoned him or committed treason after all. Had some unknown, cosmic force simply wiped them from the board?
"Lord Artosh."
A sudden, crisp voice broke the heavy silence. He recognized that tone instantly. It belonged to Azriel, the First Unit of the Flugel, the one who proudly claimed the title of his first creation and beloved daughter.
The God of War turned around. His imposing figure shifted as his gaze landed on the horizon. There stood Azriel, and arrayed behind her were the rest of the Flugel. The entire flock was present.
Artosh narrowed his eyes, his pupils contracting into dangerous slits. His piercing gaze bypassed his creations entirely, locking onto the anomaly standing casually at the forefront of the Flugel formation. It was a young man—Ren. Beside this strange youth stood an Ex-Machina and a frail girl of the Imanity.
The God of War felt a rare surge of disbelief. His proud, battle-crazed Flugel would never willingly associate with such inferior, fragile races. The situation was far more twisted than a simple disappearance. As he scanned the faces of his creations, a chilling realization settled over him. Every single Flugel staring back at him lacked the one thing they had always possessed: absolute, fanatical reverence. Their eyes held no respect for their creator.
His voice boomed, carrying the heavy, oppressive weight of a deity. "Human. Did the absurdities of this day originate from your hands?"
Ren offered a lazy, unapologetic shrug. "Guilty as charged. But if we want to get technical about it, it's actually because of this."
He casually lifted the small, mechanical hand of the Ex-Machina girl he was holding. Shuvi blinked, her metallic halo spinning softly as Ren raised their intertwined fingers for the God of War to see.
At first, Artosh barely glanced at the gesture, dismissing it as the meaningless posturing of a lesser being. But a fraction of a second later, the divine essence radiating from the girl's finger hit him like a physical blow.
"The Star Grail?!!!"
Artosh's eyes widened to the point of tearing. For the first time since the dawn of his existence, the God of War's face twisted into an expression of absolute, unadulterated shock. He finally recognized the true nature of the unassuming ring resting on Shuvi's slender finger.
"How did you obtain the Star Grail?!" he demanded, his voice cracking the very air around him.
If that artifact was truly the Star Grail, then this entire impossible scenario suddenly made perfect sense. Yet, the logic shattered just as quickly. Why? How? No matter how he analyzed the state of the planet, the absolute conditions required to manifest the Suniaster had not been met. The war was still raging; the planetary core had not been pierced.
"Heh. This little trinket? I just picked it up off the ground," Ren replied with a dismissive smirk.
With a mere flick of his intent, the fabric of space rippled violently around him. What happened next shattered the last remnants of Artosh's divine comprehension.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Four identical, all-powerful Star Grails materialized from the void. The divine chalices floated gracefully through the air, drifting toward Think Nilvalen, Couronne Dola, Jibril, and Azriel. As the artifacts reached the four women, they shrank and morphed into elegant rings. The girls' eyes sparkled with delight as they happily accepted the ultimate symbols of absolute authority, slipping them onto their fingers like casual engagement bands.
Artosh's eyelids twitched uncontrollably. He tried to convince himself it was an illusion, a parlor trick meant to mock him. But his divine senses screamed the truth. He could feel the raw, suffocating essence of absolute omnipotence radiating from every single one of those rings. They were real. The human standing before him had just casually handed out five Star Grails as if they were cheap street vendor souvenirs.
The Star Grail was the ultimate prize, the singular throne meant only for the One True God. One. The very definition of the word meant singular. Absolute. Unrivaled. Yet here were five of them. The concept of the 'One True God' had just been turned into a pathetic joke.
For the first time in his eternal life, Artosh felt that the world had gone completely, utterly insane. He stared deeply at Ren, his chaotic aura settling into a strange, heavy calm. "You hold the power of the One True God. Heh. What a truly ironic ending to this eternal war."
"Come, then," Artosh challenged, spreading his massive hands. "Use that all-powerful power. Reshape this broken world into whatever pathetic utopia you desire."
The God of War made no move to snatch the rings. His battle-honed instincts told him it would be entirely meaningless. At the same time, a dark curiosity burned within him. He wanted to see exactly what this unfathomable human intended to do with such absolute authority.
Ren, however, remained completely unmoved by the dramatic speech. Instead, a lazy, amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Don't look at me with those intense eyes, big guy. I don't have some grand, philosophical purpose. Honestly? I'm just here to watch a good show."
Artosh lowered his arms, his brow furrowing. "Watch a show?"
[Ding! Doomsday Chat Group Leader Ren has started a live broadcast!]
[Ding! Misaka Mikoto has joined the live broadcast room!]
[Ding! Ais Wallenstein has joined the live broadcast room!]
[Ding! Skadi has joined the live broadcast room!]
As the members of the Chat Group flooded into the live broadcast stream, the holographic projection displayed a seemingly stagnant standoff. The dust settled over the ruined landscape, framing the tense confrontation between the massive God of War and their laid-back Group Leader.
Through the audio feed, they heard Ren's voice ring out with crystal clarity. "I'm here to watch a grand drama of fatherly kindness and absolute filial piety."
Artosh stared at him, utterly baffled by the sheer absurdity of the statement. "What nonsense are you spouting? What fatherly kindness?"
The very next second, Jibril stepped out from the ranks of the Flugel. Her wings flared, catching the ambient light as she leveled a chilling, bloodthirsty smile at her creator.
"Lord Artosh. My creator. My father," she purred, her voice dripping with lethal intent. "I am here to kill you!"
Artosh stared blankly at the youngest and strongest of his creations. Of all the things he expected to face at the end of the world, his own vanguard declaring her intent to murder him with such cheerful enthusiasm was not on the list.
Meanwhile, the Chat Group interface exploded with activity.
March 7th: "Huh? Did I just mishear that? This pretty angel girl is going to kill her... father?!"
Ch'en: "Although I'm not entirely sure what Ren is plotting in this new world, based on the dialogue, your hearing is perfectly fine."
Tokisaki Kurumi: "My, my. Our dear Group Leader, aren't you going to explain this fascinating situation to us?"
Ren: "Hehe. Like I said, I'm just here to broadcast a heartwarming play of filial piety between a father and his loving daughter."
Aqua: "Emmm... threatening to violently murder your own father. Yes, that is certainly the peak of filial piety. Truly touching."
Silver Wolf: "Ren, you didn't, like, abduct some raid boss's daughter and then brainwash her into chopping off her old man's head, did you? Because that's a very 'you' thing to do."
Ren: "Oh? Your assessment... is actually frighteningly accurate."
Silver Wolf: "???"
Exusiai: "???"
Emilia: "Huh?!"
Shinobu Kocho: "This..."
Tingyun: "I firmly believe there must be a deeper, strategic reason behind Ren's actions. Our benefactor wouldn't do something so brutal without a deep underlying motive."
Tsunade: "Are you kidding? If it's him, he'd absolutely orchestrate a patricide just to score points with a pretty woman."
Kushina: "Hey! What do you mean by that?! Are you slandering my man?!"
Tsunade: "...You idiot, I'm deliberately provoking him!"
Kushina: "Huh? Why the hell would you provoke my man?!"
Tsunade: "...To provoke him into coming back here and doing me, obviously!"
Kushina: "???"
Erza: "..."
Shokuhou Misaki: "You people are truly, hopelessly insane."
"Hahahaha!!!"
Back in the ruined world, the stunned silence was shattered by a booming, earth-shaking roar. Artosh threw his head back, covering his face with a massive hand as he laughed uproariously at the bleeding sky. His broad chest heaved violently with every booming chuckle. Whether the outburst was fueled by blinding rage, divine madness, or sheer, unadulterated joy, it was impossible to tell.
A moment later, the booming laughter gradually died down, leaving a heavy, suffocating pressure in its wake. Artosh lowered his hand and looked directly at Jibril. There was no fury in his glowing eyes. No betrayal. Instead, a terrifying, burning excitement radiated from his colossal frame.
"Come and kill me, then! All of you, strike together! I have been waiting for this exact moment!" he roared, his voice cracking the earth beneath his feet.
When he had first forged Jibril from the chaotic energies of the world, he had poured all his divine malice and martial perfection into her. His ultimate, secret hope had always been to create an existence sharp enough, deadly enough, to finally end his eternal boredom—to kill him.
Artosh spread his massive arms wide, embracing the impending violence. "You lesser beings are so easily made self-aware. Yet you squander your existence on trivial skills, crawling like dust and grass, striving endlessly in the mud! You gather in pathetic little groups, clinging desperately to life, completely ignorant of how high and unreachable the heavens truly are!"
His divine might erupted, a vast, suffocating pressure that threatened to crush the very atmosphere. His voice thundered across the ruined plains, echoing with the absolute confidence and terrifying majesty of the Old Deus.
"Come forward, my creations!" he bellowed, a savage grin splitting his face. "Come and kill your God!"
Unfazed by the overwhelming divine pressure, Jibril simply glanced back over her shoulder at Ren, silently asking for permission.
Ren smiled faintly, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. "Go on, Little Ji. Since you promised you'd personally kill him, don't disappoint me. Go tear his head off."
Having received her master's absolute approval, Jibril's smile widened into a terrifying, bloodthirsty crescent. She flapped her geometric wings, the air shattering behind her as she launched herself directly toward the God of War like a brilliant, lethal comet.
Shuvi tugged lightly at Ren's sleeve, her mechanical eyes tracking the high-speed collision. "Can Jibril truly defeat him?" she asked softly.
Ren chuckled, wrapping his arm around Shuvi's waist and pulling her close. "Hehe. Little Ji is my woman now. You just have to sit back and have a little faith in her."
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