Against The True Gods-Chapter 116: Carnage

Blood. Blood. Blood.

The smell of blood instantly flooded Caine’s nostrils as he stepped into a world of carnage and death.

The skies were a dark and ominous shade of grey, the land black, charred even and soaked in dried blood as through the cracks of the land below, rivers of rotten blood flowed with untamed wilderness.

Mountains of corpses loomed over the horizon, their forms twisted in eternal agony.

But before Caine could analyze what lay ahead, five runes suddenly materialized in front of him.

[Rune of Bshemethoth—True Will is Inverted]

[Rune of Submission—Bodily Control is reduced by 80%]

[Rune of At’hlely—Elemental Rejection]

[Rune of Origin—Mental clarity reduced by 50%]

[Rune of Earthen Might—Ruptured Qi flow]

He barely had time to read their effects before they shot forward and branded themselves on his forehead. Searing heat radiated from the markings, the pain immediate and overwhelming.

Caine dropped to one knee as the effects took hold.

Chains wrapped tightly around each of his stars, cutting off their energy as the qi within his body turned chaotic, barely responding to his Will. His senses dimmed; the world around him spun, disorienting him as his thoughts fractured into fragments of incoherence.

Terrible pain coursed through his body. His chest heaved with labored breaths as sweat pooled down his back. His head throbbed, each beat pounding like a war drum.

It was overwhelming—but he remained calm.

He would persist.

His Dao Heart shone faintly, casting a holy light over his being, allowing him to ignore the worst of the rune’s effects.

Slowly, he stood, his legs trembling under the strain. Closing his eyes, he focused on measured breaths, forcing the chaotic palpitations of his heart to slow just enough to regain control.

He would persist.

As his breathing stabilized, his spear appeared in his hand. The cold weight of its hilt steadied him further.

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[Defeat all enemies.]

The instruction burned itself into his mind.

There was no elaboration, no details—just a single task.

Before he could search for his foes, one came to him.

From the horizon, a figure veiled in dark robes surged forward, moving faster than the eye could track. The figure wielded a long spear crackling with golden lightning, each step bridging kilometers in an instant.

As it closed in, it swung its spear in a vicious arc, releasing a crescent of chaotic lightning qi.

Caine’s jaw tightened. He forced his unsteady body to the side, narrowly evading the attack.

The edge of the lightning nicked his torso, tearing through flesh and drawing blood.

DANG!

Planting his spear into the ground, he steadied himself, his cold gaze locking onto the figure. Before he could retaliate, his opponent was upon him.

The figure’s spear flashed forward, its blade aimed for Caine’s neck.

Threads of neutral qi formed around him, binding his unstable body. His weakened True Will surged just enough to take hold of them, granting him fleeting control.

Caine ducked, his head narrowly avoiding the blade. He pivoted, using the momentum to deliver a rising kick. The force of the strike created space between him and his assailant.

The figure retreated momentarily, spinning their spear in a defensive motion before stepping back into the offensive. Their leg swept low, shattering Caine’s balance.

Caine spun midair, using his spear as leverage to backflip onto his feet. But before he could regain his footing, a beam of chaotic lightning qi surged toward him.

Rolling to the side, he avoided the beam, but his breathing was heavy, and his body protested every movement.

Gritting his teeth, Caine cast a shield of qi in front of him. The figure’s spear shattered it instantly, but the fragments of the shield reassembled into intricate runes, forming a three-dimensional formation that encased his opponent.

The robed figure sneered. Their True Will flared, shattering the formation with ease. The backlash slammed into Caine, blood spilling from his lips as pain rippled through his body.

Before he could recover, the figure lunged again, their spear supercharged with lightning qi. It moved faster than thought, its tip aimed straight for Caine’s exposed chest.

His mind blanked for a moment, overwhelmed by a powerful Will attack. When his thoughts returned, pain consumed him.

Blood poured from his left side, a chunk of flesh missing from his torso. His organs were exposed, barely held together as agony radiated from the wound.

But the attacker gave no respite.

They spun, their spear rising in a deadly arc that slammed into Caine’s chin, sending him flying upward.

The skies darkened, and from above, a pillar of lightning descended, slamming into his falling body.

BOOOOM!

A massive crater formed upon impact. The figure landed at its edge, peering down to assess Caine’s condition.

Suddenly, their gaze widened as a suffocating sense of danger overwhelmed them.

Caine appeared behind the figure, his body shrouded in silver runes, his eyes cold and lifeless.

SHUR!

His spear moved with blinding speed, severing the tendons in the figure’s leg. As they faltered, off balance, Caine surged forward, speed runes glowing beneath his feet.

He swung his spear again, cutting down in a cross-shaped motion that tore through the figure’s robes, exposing their true form.

A middle-aged man stood before him, bald with scarlet eyes and runic tattoos carved into his body.

"NO—"

Caine’s spear cut down once more, the strike imbued with a ferocious True Spear Will.

The air trembled, the skies split, and blood rained as the man’s head fell from his neck.

Caine stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving as the body collapsed into the crater below. The severed head rolled to his feet, the remnants of fear and disbelief frozen in its lifeless gaze.

[Nameless Call.]

But he did not dwell on it.

Threads of neutral qi wove through his body, suturing his wounds as he bent down, retrieving the man’s robes. Draping them over himself, he turned without a word and began to walk forward.

The battlefield behind him fell silent.

The only sound that remained was the steady rhythm of his breathing as he moved into the distance.