Chapter 139 | Absorbing The God Soul

Chapter 139: 139 | Absorbing The God Soul

Andrew was conflicted.

On one hand, this was exactly what he had come here for. The rumor. The technique to becoming a god. The reason he had entered this domain in the first place. It was real. It existed. And the man who held the knowledge was standing right in front of him, willing to trade it for his life.

On the other hand...

This god had tricks. If Andrew let him live—even enslaved, even bound—there was no telling what kind of contingencies he had prepared.

Letting him live was like planting a venomous snake in his own garden and hoping it wouldn’t bite.

Andrew’s gaze turned indifferent.

"Don’t worry," he said quietly. "I will find a way to become a god on my own."

The god’s face went white.

"But for you," Andrew continued, "you have to die."

"No—"

Andrew didn’t hesitate. The suction force surged to maximum power.

The god’s soul ripped free from his body in a torrent of white light, streaming into Andrew’s palm like a river being swallowed by the sea.

The man’s form crumbled, his white suit dissolving, his white hair scattering, his handsome face twisting in agony and rage as the last remnants of his existence were torn away.

"You will die a terrible death!" the god screamed, his voice growing fainter and fainter as his soul disintegrated. "You will not live to see—I promise you—you will die a terrible—"

His words dissolved into static. Then silence.

Andrew snorted coldly at the god’s curse.

The echoes faded. The inner universe settled. The swirling vortex of suction force dissipated, leaving behind a profound, absolute stillness.

The sword was godless now.

The domain was his.

---

It took ten hours to fully absorb the god’s soul.

Ten hours of sitting in the diamond palace, motionless, his divine consciousness locked in a process that demanded every ounce of his focus and willpower.

The god’s soul was ancient—dense with thousands of accumulated knowledge, memory, and power.

It resisted and Andrew had to wrap the rest of it with his divine power after making sure to wipe out any trace of conciouness.

If he tried to absorb it all, he might die from over feeding. So like a goat, he put the food somewhere safe so he can slowly digest it.

When it was finally done, Andrew felt the change immediately.

His divine core pulsed with new energy—thicker, heavier, more potent than before.

Very soon, the god’s power and knowledge would become his.

Then came the second task.

It took another five hours just to imprint his divinity into the black sword.

He sat cross-legged before the golden throne, the sword across his lap, and poured his divine will into the blade.

This time, the sword didn’t fight him. It didn’t drink his energy greedily or attempt to consume him.

It accepted him.

Slowly, reluctantly, like a wild animal being tamed, the blade yielded.

The ancient seals within the sword recognized his imprint, acknowledged his claim, and bent to his will.

The god domain was his.

The palace. The throne. The walls of diamond and gold. The sculptures. The treasures.

The kilometer-wide space of impossible luxury—all of it answered to him now. He could feel every inch of it, every atom, every particle, as though the entire domain were an extension of his own body.

But even as the domain became his, Andrew realized its limitations.

He lacked the energy to activate most of its functions.

The god domain had a time dilation function—a remarkable ability that could alter the flow of time within its boundaries.

He could slow time inside, making minutes feel like hours, effectively giving himself far more time to cultivate, train, or recover than the outside world would allow.

Or he could speed time up, spending what felt like minutes inside while days passed outside.

But he couldn’t use it unless he possess Supermana Chip which he does!

Also, the domain could also shrink. It could compress itself down to a size small enough to be contained within the black sword. The sword would serve as its vessel, a portable housing for an entire god’s domain that Andrew could carry with him wherever he went.

But the black sword could not be placed inside the inventory.

The system didn’t recognize it. The question marks remained, and with them came the limitation—the sword existed outside the system’s framework, and therefore couldn’t be stored, summoned, or manipulated through system functions. He would have to carry it physically.

Still, even with these limitations, the domain was an incredible asset.

If he could establish a shrine within it—a resurrection point—then anytime he died in the real world, he could simply resurrect inside the god domain.

And from there, he could step back out into the real world at will. It was a safety net. An insurance policy against death itself.

A perfect arrangement.

It was during his exploration of the newly claimed domain that Andrew noticed something.

He could see everything now. Every corner of the god domain was visible to him—every room, every passage, every hidden space. The domain itself was his eyes and ears, showing him things he had never been able to see before.

And there, behind the throne—tucked into a space so narrow and so well-concealed that it might as well have been invisible—was something he had missed.

A lamp.

Andrew blinked and focused his attention on it. It was a weird-looking lamp. Not a single lamp, actually—it was a structure with nine branches, each ending in a small lamp holder. The shape was strange, asymmetrical, almost organic, as though it had been grown rather than crafted. The material was dark—darker than the sword, darker than the shadows around it—and it seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

Andrew’s frown deepened.

He had swept this entire palace with his omniscience perception. Twice. He had scanned every surface, every corner, every hidden crevice. And he had not seen this lamp. Even now, looking directly at it through the god domain’s awareness, his omniscience perception still couldn’t detect it. If he tried to sense it with his perception rather than his domain sight, it simply wasn’t there. As though the lamp existed in a space that his perception couldn’t reach.

If the god domain hadn’t become his—giving him the ability to see from every corner of the space simultaneously—he would never have known this lamp existed.

And one of the nine lamps was lit.

A single flame burned on one of the nine branches. Small. Steady. Its light was faint—barely visible against the dark material of the lamp—but it was there. Alive. Burning quietly in its hidden space behind the throne, where no one had looked for eight thousand years.

Andrew stared at it.

He wondered if he should touch it.

He had touched the black sword, and the black sword had nearly killed him. A god had been hiding inside it, waiting to consume his soul. If he touched this lamp, something worse could happen. Something far worse.

He tried his danger sense.

Nothing.

The danger sense didn’t warn him. It didn’t reassure him either. It simply... said nothing. The same silence he had experienced before entering the passage. The same silence that had preceded his encounter with the god.

Andrew knew now that his danger sense could be wrong. It could be fooled. It could be bypassed by beings or objects powerful enough to exist outside its detection range. The god had proven that. The lamp was proving it again.

He was conflicted.

Curiosity pulled him toward the lamp. The nine branches. The single lit flame. The fact that it was hidden so carefully—concealed from every sense except the domain sight of its owner—suggested it was important. Possibly very important. Possibly dangerous. Possibly both.

Caution held him back. He had already survived one trap today by the slimmest of margins. His divine core was still processing the energy from the god’s soul. His reserves were depleted. He was in no condition to face another ancient threat.

Andrew stood there for a long time, staring at the lamp, weighing his options.

After everything he had been through—the passage, the palace, the sword, the god—he had gained something significant. A god domain. A powerful sword. The knowledge and power of an eight-thousand-year-old deity absorbed into his own being. These were not small gains. These were the kind of gains that could change the trajectory of his entire life.

But he hadn’t gained the one thing he had come here for.

The technique to become a god.

The god had offered to teach him. Had dangled it in front of him like bait, promising to cut his cultivation time in half. Andrew had refused—had killed the god instead, choosing safety over knowledge. And now, standing in the empty palace with a dead god’s domain at his command, he couldn’t help but wonder.

Had he made the right choice?

The lamp flickered silently behind the throne.

Andrew continued to stare at it as he pondered.