Novel Full Chapter 786 My Brother Died Too, He Mattered To Me
Chapter 786: 786 My Brother Died Too, He Mattered To Me
Chaos surged. Orson dipped forward, slipped through the mirror web, and appeared beside Oliver.
“You…”
Under Oliver’s stunned gaze, Orson placed a hand on his cheek and smiled. “Child, accept my apology. I failed you and your mother.”
Oliver froze, feeling the warmth on his face. Enemy or kin. He ran through every word he knew, desperate to answer this man, yet nothing came.
“We should go see the brightest starfields.”
Orson looked up, voice soft, eyes on the glittering river of stars.
Earth’s divine realm was small, a speck of dust among the constellations, yet nothing stopped it from birthing a sovereign of war.
Oliver’s eyes shook. It was true.
Whether Earth or the united divine realms, in the vast scale of the galaxy they were tiny. The storied core regions were ancient and mysterious, known only through the whispers of offworld trialists.
“The gods there are beyond belief. With your strength, you might not rule with a single hand,” Oliver said gravely.
Many great gods had risen there. It was the front against the abyssal hordes.
What Earth faced had only been a probing tendril.
“Then why do they not help us?”
Orson’s smile thinned. “Help us resist these monsters. Pantheon Sanctum is beaten rabble. They only want to enslave us.”
“I… I do not know. Please, hurry.”
Oliver’s heart burned. His master’s life was a hair from vanishing, and this bastard was still talking.
“Remember this. If you are not strong, you die. You end up like now, weeping and begging me.”
Orson’s eyes turned cold and cruel. Oliver’s defenses cracked. He shouted, frantic. “I know. I know.”
Orson nodded and looked to Bradley’s ruined body. His heart bled. His soul burned.
He did not dare look back at Chloe’s eyes.
“This world offers two paths. Be enslaved. Or shatter the enslavers.”
He cast Oliver a glance, left a single sentence, and a streak of crimson.
Oliver collapsed like a punctured ball, sweat running cold. He understood that look. If he could not accept the law of cruelty, the old bastard would end him himself.
The next instant, Orson stood beside Usher. Even with his HP about to hit zero and his body in pieces, Usher forced his eyes open and glared. “I can do this. Get out.”
Orson did not answer. No one knew his old rival better. Usher’s pride ran deeper than most could grasp. He would rather die than yield in a shouting match.
“Your turn. I will deliver the final blow,” Sigrel growled.
Orson’s sudden appearance made Sigrel slip back fast, leaving only the reaper’s domain to stand behind Orson like a shadow.
Death’s law took hold.
Mana burn minus ten million.
Mana burn minus twelve million.
As expected, Orson’s mana began to plummet, and with it his HP burned in tandem.
The burn seemed endless. Any normal caster Mid God would be ash in under a minute. Casters lived by mana, and their pools dwarfed their health.
But Orson knew the divine rules. Even broken domains had limits. His task was to find them and break them.
“Why has his mana not bottomed out?”
Menis whispered, stunned. As she burned his mana, her own drained in lockstep. As a Mid God with every point poured into mana, she stood at one hundred and seventy million. On domain alone she could incinerate a melee god.
Yet after forty-five seconds of burning, he showed no sign of fading. He even found time to speak lightly to the demon on the verge of death.
“Queenie is dead. She mattered to you,” Orson said.
Usher’s eyes trembled, but he gave no answer. He was not sentimental. He only knew the sacrifices of Dragon’s Kiss Guild could not be wasted.
He had to live to take revenge on Pantheon’s filth.
“My brother died too. He mattered to me.”
A bitter smile tugged at Orson’s lips. His eyes grew wet.
“Join me,” he said quietly, wiping the tears away. “Boil the galaxy. Burn the galaxy. Let every god and demon who feeds on our kin meet the void.”
Usher stared, shaken. He had never seen this man so furious. He forced his jaws apart. “Fine.”
“God-seed, Soulfire Field.”
Menis’s snarl cut the air. She poured even more of her god-seed into the domain.
The phantom of the reaper behind Orson condensed into flesh. Her mana began to climb exponentially.
“If you do not know my domain’s mechanics, even a High Supreme will fall.”
Joy flashed across her face as the burn rate doubled.
Orson turned, his gaze like a blade, pointed straight at her. He smiled. “You think you can compare mana pools with me.”
Terror crawled across Menis’s withered face. “Impossible.”
“Chaos God-seed, Manifest Heaven and Earth.”
Orson took a single step. Power exploded through him. Layers of chaotic light rippled across his skin. He seemed to stand outside space, an immortal king of slaughter.
“So big.”
“What is he. Is he truly a product of the divine realm.”
Before all eyes a giant rose beyond the understanding of offworld trialists.
With a volley of dull pops, the reaper’s phantom broke into gray motes and vanished. The mana burn ended.
“I get it. That hag dumped everything into mana and crushes targets by raw pool,” Madman blurted, stunned. “If someone in the field has a higher mana cap, her domain fails.”
Orson’s true body withered old once more, and in its place came fiftyfold boosts to every stat.
His mana slid past five billion like nothing.
“How does a savage world hold a thing like you. A trialist whose real strength brushes a High God,” Menis whispered, aghast.
She prided herself on playing numbers. Before this stack of numbers she was small and laughable.
And she did not know. This was not even the limit of Manifest Heaven and Earth. It was only the edge of the mortal god’s lifespan.
Orson bared his panel.
He did not move. His HP and mana bars slammed into the faces of the two gods.
“Do not come. Do not come any closer,” Menis screamed, mind shattering as her domain broke. She fled as a bolt of gray light toward the cleared Rainbow Corridor.
“Damn it. She is coming at us.”
Sword Soul Guild froze mid-escape. They had never imagined a Mid God would run like a dog, much less die right in their path.
“No one escapes my range. Not even gods.”
The cold voice rolled like thunder. “Chaos Hurricane Spear.”
Once locked, none returned.
A mountain-sized spear ripped space. Everything it touched became dust.
With a wet crack, the mistress of Soul Sea World, seven thousand years astride the galaxy, came apart in the storm, her body ground to cosmic sand. Only a single gray god-seed drifted where she had been.
“What sin did we commit to deserve this.”
“Divine punishment. This is divine punishment.”
The sight shattered the minds of the offworld trialists still resisting.
A being they thought invincible died like nothing.
They dropped their weapons and stripped their gear, kneeling and begging Godslayer for mercy.
“I am only a frail mage. I heard the Power Clan are famed for strength. You must be very strong.”
The towering avatar on Forever City’s surface looked down like a vampire moon at Sigrel.