The earth shook and the mountains quaked.
Terrible explosions echoed endlessly. Not a single person nearby, whether from the Shadow Church or the Church of Murder, dared to approach this place. This was a battlefield of deities, where any mortal—even a Legendary Professional—might instantly perish if they came close. Powerful divine rank power locked down the space. More than one aura that made mortals tremble emerged, the fierce combat leaving countless cracks across the ground. Surrounding vine plants grew wildly, cold frost and snow fell from nowhere, and occasionally a dazzling beam of gold flashed past like golden lightning tearing the sky apart.
"I refuse to accept this!..."
A low, beast-like roar growled, drip-dropping fresh blood sliding down an arm. Cyric's expression was filled with madness, resembling a beast trapped and dying in a trap.
His entire body was covered in a layer of white frost. A sheet of ice already surrounded him; apart from the divine blood that remained unfrozen, the surrounding grass and trees had long since withered completely. Fatal wounds crisscrossed Cyric's back and shoulders, impossible to heal in a short time even with higher divine magic. His divine shield had been breached by the combined attack of the deities. Within his somewhat chaotic memories, this scene felt somewhat familiar, and he soon recalled that period of painful time—it was when he was judged by the deities for the second time, when he was jointly banished and sealed by the gods. How similar that scene was to the present.
"It's time to end this."
Soren's expression remained as calm as ever, though his palm trembled slightly. Cyric had severed half of his left palm, and even restoration with divine power would take a moment.
The enemy was much more troublesome than expected.
Though Cyric had now weakened