Chapter 137 | Stalling

Chapter 137: 137 | Stalling

Andrew’s divine phantom, his golden, towering God form, the embodiment of his divine power—was tiny in front of this man.

Humiliatingly small. Like a candle flame held up against the sun. His God phantom stood before this stranger like a child standing before an elderly man.

At that moment, Andrew’s expression changed.

He was in trouble.

Now he knew why the danger sense hadn’t worked. Now he knew why his omniscience perception hadn’t detected anything.

This person was a god.

An actual true god.

He had been hiding here. Waiting. For thousands of years.

And Andrew had walked right into the trap.

The man looked down at Andrew and raised an eyebrow. His smirk flickered—genuine surprise crossing his features for the first time.

"Oh," he said. "Even a level 10 brat?"

He frowned, studying Andrew the way a collector studies an unexpected find. His eyes narrowed with interest as they traced over Andrew’s divine form, reading him like an open book.

Then he shook his head slowly, the smirk returning wider than before.

"Your potential is truly terrifying," he said. His voice carried a note of genuine admiration—mixed with something darker. Possessiveness. "Actually managing to get the title of New God at level 10. Do you understand how remarkable that is? How many beings in the history of this world have accomplished that?" He paused. "I can count them on one hand. And I’ve been counting for thousands of years."

He chuckled. The sound reverberated through Andrew’s entire consciousness like an earthquake.

"This is perfect," the man said, his voice rising with excitement. "Ha ha ha. This is fate. This is perfect. Extremely perfect."

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes blazing with an intensity that made Andrew’s divine phantom tremble.

"You are even more talented than I previously was," he said. "More talented than my previous body. More talented than anything I’ve seen." He spread his arms wide, his smirk widening into a grin that split his handsome face like a crack in porcelain. "Lucky for me—lucky for both of us—I was able to split my soul and keep it here. Waiting. Patient. For years, I have waited in this place for a true successor. Someone worthy. Someone with enough talent to carry what I left behind."

He looked down at Andrew, and his grin softened into something almost paternal. Almost kind. Almost.

"And finally," he said, "you have fallen into my lap."

Andrew gritted his teeth as he wished to something.

Run.

Fight.

Do something.

But he was inside his own mind and couldn’t move in the presence of the god.

And the worst part—the absolute worst part—was that he had done it to himself. He had activated his own God Descent. He had poured his own divine energy into the sword. He had fed himself to this god willingly, eagerly, greedily, because he wanted a domain.

He had handed himself over on a silver platter, and the god was smiling.

...

**Chapter: The Prison of a Dead God**

Andrew stood frozen before the black sword, his hand hovering inches from its dripping darkness. The energy rolling off the blade was cold and suffocating, a malice so deep it seemed to whisper promises of annihilation. He had come seeking a core, a key to claim this dead god’s domain. Instead, the moment his fingertips neared the hilt, the world shattered.

A blinding light erupted from the sword, swallowing the golden palace and its towering throne. Andrew shielded his eyes. When the brilliance faded, he was no longer in the throne room. He floated in a vast inner space, a starless void that felt both infinite and suffocating. This was his Inner Universe, the sacred ground of his soul, and yet he was not alone.

Before him stood a man with hair as white as bleached bone. His golden eyes gleamed with ancient arrogance, and behind him loomed a colossal divine phantom, its form hazy and immense, radiating power that made Andrew’s soul tremble. The god had been waiting inside the sword all along, a fragment of consciousness buried for millennia.

Before Andrew could react, the white haired god casually raised a hand. The massive phantom behind him mirrored the movement. Instantly, a terrifying suction force erupted from its palm.

Andrew’s own Divine Phantom, the smaller, struggling manifestation of his nascent divinity, shuddered violently. It was being dragged toward the god, caught in an invisible vortex. Andrew’s expression twisted in shock. "What?!"

He gritted his teeth and tried to pull it back, but the force was irresistible. The phantom slid forward inch by inch, its form flickering with strain. This was not a battle. This was consumption. The ancient god did not intend to kill him outright. He was devouring Andrew’s divinity, absorbing it into his own.

"Wait," Andrew said, forcing calm into his voice.

The suction did not stop, but the white haired man glanced down at him with mild curiosity. "What?" His tone was lazy, the voice of someone who had all the time in the universe and no reason to hurry.

Andrew did not panic. He did not beg. He looked up at the god with genuine curiosity, his mind racing to find a crack in the situation. "I’ve heard stories," he said.

The god raised an eyebrow. "Stories?"

"They say you were once a mortal." Andrew tilted his head slightly, as if they were merely two travelers sharing a campfire. "Is becoming a god really that difficult?"

The white haired man blinked. For a brief moment, he simply stared at Andrew. Then a low chuckle escaped his lips, a sound rusty with disuse. "You ask interesting questions," he said. He studied Andrew for a few long seconds, something flickering in those golden eyes. Amusement. Loneliness. "Very well. I’ve been alone for over eight thousand years. I suppose I can spare a few minutes."

The suction pulling Andrew’s Divine Phantom slowed considerably, though it did not cease. The phantom continued its slow drift, but the god now seemed more interested in conversation than a quick meal. He folded one arm behind his back and gazed into the starless void of Andrew’s Inner Universe.

"The path to godhood," the ancient being began, "has long since been sealed." His voice took on a lecturing tone, the arrogance of someone who had witnessed truths mortals could only dream of. "The gods themselves sealed it. They destroyed every remaining opportunity for a new god to be born. They consumed countless Divinities, erased countless inheritances, and rewrote the very laws that govern ascension." He smiled faintly, a thin curl of his lips that held no warmth. "Now, no matter how talented you are, no matter whether you reach Level Nine Hundred or even Level Nine Hundred and Ninety Nine, you will never become a true god. The world itself rejects it. The System rejects it. The rules have already been rewritten."

Andrew frowned, processing the words. A world where ascension was impossible. A system rigged by those already at the top. His mind latched onto a crucial detail. "Then you’re a player," he said.

The white haired man looked back at him. "I am."

Andrew’s brows knitted together. "That doesn’t make sense. Blue Ocean World only merged with Heaven’s Domain a few centuries ago. How could you possibly become a player before that?"

For the first time, the god’s smile faded. His golden eyes narrowed. That question had touched upon secrets buried deeper than the ancient god expected a mere level ten brat to uncover. Silence stretched between them, the only sound the faint hum of the suction pulling Andrew’s phantom ever closer. Then the god shrugged, a casual roll of his shoulders. "You’re going to become my vessel anyway. I suppose it doesn’t matter."

He smiled again, but this time it was colder, sharper. "The merger wasn’t an accident."

Andrew’s pupils contracted. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs.

"It was engineered," the god continued. "Certain influential families, certain organizations, and even the Federation itself had already established contact with Heaven’s Domain long before the public knew it existed. They opened the door. They believed they were bringing humanity a new future." A hint of mockery crept into his voice, thick and bitter. "They nearly brought about its extinction instead."

Andrew’s mind reeled. The invasion, the monsters pouring through rifts, the Domains that swallowed cities, all the death and chaos that had reshaped his world. "So the invasion, the monsters, the Domains, they all happened because of them?"

The white haired god gave a small nod. "Without their interference, Blue Ocean World would have remained hidden for much longer. Perhaps forever. But greed and ambition are universal constants. They sought power, and they opened a door they could not close."

Andrew fell silent. The weight of the revelation pressed down on him. Entire civilizations had crumbled because a handful of people had reached too far. And now he stood in the soul of one of the beings they had unleashed.

He forced his thoughts back to the present, to the slow, steady drain of his divinity. "You still haven’t answered my first question," he said.