Sorry, I Prefer a Buffet

Deep within the ruins, the dust had yet to settle.

That foot was like a pillar that steadied the sea, firmly planted atop Carlos's massive head.

The True God who had been arrogant just moments ago, shouting that he would judge Yang Yu with the resentment of billions of living beings, now looked like a dead dog with its spine broken, half his head embedded in the rock.

"Spare... spare me..."

Carlos's voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz. There was no trace of Divine Might left in him.

Fear.

A fear he had not experienced in thousands of years—the fear called "death"—gnawed at his Divine Spark like countless ants.

"I can sign a slave contract... I can offer every treasure in my Divine Kingdom... I'm a True God. I'm more useful alive than dead! I can be your dog!"

He desperately sent out his Divine Will, his tone humble to the very dust.

To stay alive, dignity was worth nothing.

Yet.

Yang Yu merely lowered his head and glanced at him.

There was no mockery in that gaze, no satisfaction—only a calmness that filled Carlos with despair.

As if he were looking at a battery that had lost all value.

"Treasure?"

Yang Yu picked at his ear, his other hand still in his pocket, his tone lazy.

"How foolish."

"If I kill you, won't everything become mine anyway?"

"If I can have a buffet, why would I wait for you to serve the dishes?"

Before his words had even faded.

Carlos's pupils suddenly shrank to pinpoints.

"No!! You can't..."

"Splurt."

Yang Yu applied the slightest bit of force beneath his foot.

An incomparably pure force of the flesh, mixed with domineering Law Power, instantly pierced Carlos's skull and drove straight into the Divine Spark trembling frantically within the