Novel Full Chapter 756: You Should Take Responsibility
Chapter 756: 756: You Should Take Responsibility
Boom!
Boom!
…
Nine chaos dragons tore across the heavens.
Warships hovering above the lunar base exploded even from afar, bursting into colossal fireballs that came crashing down.
Within the heart of the elemental storm, the figures of Belenor and his allies blurred. A single black dragon plummeted down—its impact vaporized the three-eyed archer on the spot.
Critical Hit!
Critical Hit!
…
The ground convulsed without end. Under Ethan’s command, the nine chaos dragons rampaged with unstoppable force.
Mountains crumbled to dust, valleys disintegrated into particles, and everything in sight was annihilated beneath their fury.
The elemental cataclysm raged for more than ten minutes, leaving every spectator who had witnessed the Super Forbidden Spell shaken to their core.
The arena—once a massive fortress crafted by the divine artificer Nightshade as a forward base for the Godslayer Alliance—had long since been seized by alien deities and repurposed into the Starcup battleground.
Now it was nothing but scarred ruins, riddled with gaping craters and jagged rifts in space itself.
Cain and Saint Roland shielded the others, both staring at Ethan with disbelief.
Yes, he had only managed to unleash the Super Forbidden Spell with someone’s aid.
But that reckless gaze of his, that will to wager everything… it was the spitting image of Orson in his prime.
“I knew it! I knew it!”
On the commentator’s platform, while the other hosts looked on in horror, SirLagsALot finally rose to his feet after years of being forced into silence.
Straightening his back, casting aside every shred of servility, he slammed the table and roared with laughter:
“Earth Infinite Dimensions will not wither with defeat! From death, we shall rise again!”
“We will rewrite this cursed Godslayer saga!”
“No one will stop us! Not even that bitch of a goddess of victory herself!”
His tirade left commentators from other worlds stunned. Then, one by one, they sneered as if looking at a dead man.
“With words that blasphemous, your diplomatic immunity is gone. You’re finished.” the lizard-faced host hissed.
“Screw your immunity.”
“Screw your gods.”
SirLagsALot was lost to frenzy. Years of humiliation erupted all at once. He had played the lapdog for too long.
People had mocked him when he spoke of the God of Magic’s return, dismissing him as delusional.
If Orson was so mighty, where the hell had he been?
Back then, no one had an answer.
Now, the answer was right before their eyes.
The God of Magic had returned.
And the gods would bleed.
“No…”
Damiron’s scream was cut short as the elemental storm engulfed her.
Her flawless features shredded, her body mangled, the Reaper’s phantom behind her faded, and her scythe cracked apart.
Barely alive, she clung to existence only thanks to the divine item gifted by her patron god.
Of Belenor’s six, four lay dead, two crippled.
“Keep running your mouth now, huh? Keep calling me, you bastard!”
Riven sneered at the battered Belenor at the crater’s heart.
In his mind, if you lost, you curled up like a dog. If you won, you shouted until the heavens split.
Aaron glanced at the old man standing beside Ethan, and a strange awe welled within him.
“My father once fought shoulder to shoulder with this man in the same trench…”
To fight alongside Orson—that was glory itself.
“Khah…”
Belenor knelt on one knee at the bottom of the crater. His chest heaved, silver-gray blood spilling from his mouth.
His fists, still frozen mid-strike, smoked as the artifact gauntlets melted at the edges, their sharp ridges ground flat by elemental force.
Half his vitality was gone, yet he still fared better than Damiron. His sheer resilience was monstrous.
To withstand a Super Forbidden Spell with nothing but his fists was a feat to shake the stars.
He lifted his head, defiance blazing in his eyes, and laughed through gritted teeth.
“You… you have earned my respect. Your name will be etched into my gauntlets forever.”
Then his gaze hardened. “But you will die here.”
“I’ve been ready for that.”
Ethan’s voice was calm now. The arrogance had faded, replaced by a tempered resolve.
In mere minutes, he had been transformed.
Turning to the “old man,” Ethan flashed a wide grin. “Hey, old man.”
“Hm?” Orson sighed.
“You and me together—we’re unbeatable!” Ethan said solemnly.
“Get lost.”
Orson smacked him on the forehead, scolding with a scowl, though his heart swelled with pride.
The brat… he really was his son.
“If you go home like this, your mother might not even let you through the door. What the hell happened to you all these years?” Ethan rubbed his forehead and chuckled.
Every young adventurer stared at Orson in curiosity. Gods were supposed to be eternal—why did he look so weathered?
“Your father has fought battles you cannot even imagine,” Cain said gravely. “He must return to Earth and draw upon faith.”
“But Earth right now…” Riven began, ready to explain the situation, when a massive figure suddenly threw his arms around Orson.
“You bastard… you really came back?”
Bradley clutched his brother’s collar, eyes red, all traces of his old goofiness gone.
The years had hollowed him—silver hair, a gaunt face, sorrow etched deep.
Orson hardly recognized him. He didn’t need to ask; he knew exactly how much his brother had suffered.
“I’m back,” Orson whispered, voice breaking.
“You’re not leaving again? Don’t you dare abandon us again…”
Bradley’s voice cracked. The younger generation looked on in stunned silence. None of them had ever seen him vulnerable.
“Don’t worry. I won’t. We’ll finish our cause—together.”
Orson clasped his brother’s shoulder, his words firm.
“Good… good…”
Bradley wiped away tears as big as pearls. The young ones kept quiet.
In their eyes, Bradley was always the one charging first into battle, even against gods.
He lived by a creed: We are Godslayer. We are eternal. We will never betray ourselves.
Yet here he was, stripped of armor, weeping in his brother’s arms.
“Dad… don’t be like this,” Isla whispered, tears in her own eyes as she comforted him.
Bradley steadied himself, pulling her close. “He’s the one who gave you your name.”
“Don’t we still have unfinished business?” Chloe asked dryly, nodding at the crater where the divine heirs still clung to life.
“We’ve pissed off the gods completely now.”
“What business? Anything I can’t handle, Orson sure as hell can,” Bradley shot back.
Orson smiled knowingly. He had no grand gifts to give. Only blessings.
His staff became the Chaos Blade, and he bestowed its blessing upon Chloe.
“Critical damage increased? All stats boosted… but I thought gods could only bless adventurers who shared their class foundation?” Chloe stared in disbelief.
The Chaos Blade shifted into a greatsword. Aaron gaped. “Me too?”
Orson chuckled softly. “They call me the God of Magic. That doesn’t mean I’m bound to one class.”
“Holy crap, you’re one hell of a god,” Riven cackled, thrilled as his own power surged.
“I’ll use this to finally knock my old man flat!”
“That monster…”
Oliver watched coldly, gripping his bow so tightly his knuckles whitened.
He knew—even at full strength—he couldn’t scratch this man.
And when Orson manifested a chaos longbow, Oliver instantly retreated, snarling:
“I don’t want your charity. You’re not worthy.”
“Oh?”
Orson withdrew the blessing, his voice cool.
“You’re my eldest son. But because of your poor command, your team was dragged into peril. You should take responsibility.”
“Uh… old man, actually that was kind of my fault…” Ethan muttered sheepishly, until Orson’s glare shut him up.
He turned awkwardly toward Oliver. “Oliver… seriously, my bad this time. Totally on me.”