Slaying God: I, the insane and witty god

Michael's will materialized into a divine realm, and endless holy light, like a golden ocean, instantly engulfed the crimson sky of hell.

This filthy land was forcibly purified into a magnificent and majestic courtroom.

He hovered in the air, the golden greatsword in his hand that had once severed Lucifer's wings.

The sword tip pointed directly at the silent figure below, the light flowing from the blade more intense than the hottest lava in hell.

"Odin."

Michael's voice was devoid of any emotion, yet it struck the soul like a thousand hammers of judgment.

The surrounding space groaned and distorted in agony due to this unbearable pressure.

Where is the Ark of the Covenant? What do you intend to release by breaking the seal on the moon?

Each word transformed into chains of law and order, wrapping around the one-eyed old man layer upon layer.

The raging demons in hell trembled under this divine power, prostrating themselves on the ground, unable even to utter a wail.

The air seemed to solidify into a block of iron, heavy enough to crush the spine of any living thing.

Odin leaned on his spear, the tip leaving a scorch mark on the sizzling ground scorched by the holy light.

He raised his single eye, and in the depths of his murky eye, there was no fear, only a deathly abyss, as if it could devour all light.

He did not answer, and this silence itself was the most thorough provocation.

Michael's last shred of patience burned out. God has no need to speak to blasphemers.

"Stubborn."

The moment the words left his mouth, the golden greatsword had already slashed out.

There was no earth-shattering roar, only a pure golden ray of light that seemed to cleave the entire hell along with time and space.

This is the sword that defines "the end," the manifestation of the wrath of the gods; any defense that exists in the realm of concepts is meaningless before it.

However, just as the golden thread was about to touch Odin,

The space around Odin suddenly collapsed and twisted inward, forming an indescribable vortex.

With a power beyond the comprehension of mortals, a power that distorts the rules of space and time, he withstood the fatal blow.

The golden light collided violently with the distorted space, unleashing an energy storm that annihilated everything, instantly leveling the hellish landscape within a hundred miles.

At the eye of the storm, Odin staggered backward, his left hand, which he had used to block, severed at the wrist and fell into the churning dust below.

But Michael's eyes narrowed sharply at that moment, becoming as sharp as a knife.

There was no blood.

No divine blood flowed from Odin's severed wrist; instead, countless fine, hair-like blood-red worms emerged.

The worms seemed to possess a life of their own, writhing, intertwining, and climbing wildly.

In the blink of an eye, a perfectly intact hand was rewoven in the void.

Even the wrinkles on her skin are exactly the same as before.

The newborn hand opened and closed slightly, emanating a nauseating, eerie aura that was a mixture of life and decay.

This scene is more shocking than any words can describe.

"You..." For the first time, a chilling killing intent and a hint of shock appeared in Michael's golden pupils.

"You have been corrupted."

He finally understood that the Odin before him was no longer the pure god-king of Asgard.

Deep within his divinity dwells something filthy from a deeper, more ancient, and more indescribable realm.

He stole the Ark of the Covenant and shook the seal on the moon, not for his own ambition, but for the "thing" within him.

"Too late, Michael," Odin finally spoke, his voice hoarse as if two tombstones were rubbing against each other.

"Your twilight was already destined."

Before he finished speaking, he suddenly ripped through the sky with his newborn hand!

A massive gash was torn open in the crimson sky of hell.

There was no void in the wound, but rather an endless stream of grayish-white ash.

The ashes carried an aura of ending and annihilation; wherever they went, even Michael's blazing holy light began to dim and extinguish.

Taking advantage of the moment when the Holy Light Realm was corrupted by ashes,

Without hesitation, Odin turned and crashed into the dark rift behind him created by the spatial collision, disappearing instantly.

The other end of that rift leads to an unknown land that even Michael cannot immediately perceive.

"Don't even think about escaping!"

Michael's fighting spirit was completely ignited, no longer for the sake of retrieving the sacred artifact, but for the purpose of ending a huge hidden danger that was capable of overturning the existing order.

The golden light surrounding him condensed to its peak, transforming into a golden meteor that tore through the sky.

Ignoring the ashes that could erode divine power, it followed the rift with unparalleled force, determined to completely eradicate the corrupted god.

The figures of the two supreme beings disappeared at the end of the space, and Hell finally returned to its original deathly silence.

That earth-shattering battle seemed like nothing more than a fleeting dream, the only trace remaining.

It was the grayish-white snowflakes falling from the sky like a funeral procession.

They silently covered the shattered earth, burying the scorching marks and majesty left by the gods.

After an unknown amount of time, in this desolate world shrouded in gray snow, several blurry black figures quietly coalesced into form in a shadowy spot.

They had no facial features, no physical form, and seemed to be made up of pure shadows, yet they all made the same gesture.

They slowly raised their heads, gazing up at the direction of the sky where Michael and Odin had disappeared, even though it was now empty.

In their "gaze," there was no fear, no awe, only an almost pious, chilling anticipation.

It was as if this chase and battle between gods was merely the opening prelude to a grand drama.

And they, the most loyal audience of this play, are quietly waiting for the awakening of a true protagonist.

Or perhaps it is a conspiracy that has been brewing for countless eons, finally revealing its fangs.

The gears of fate, stained with divine blood and unknown filth, began to spin wildly at an unprecedented speed.

On a distant blue planet in the universe, two tiny lives were caught in the eye of this storm.

Unbeknownst to them, the long and peaceful night they had grown accustomed to was about to come to an end.