Saint Light emerged once more, but this time, the Flügel slaughtered by Aizen did not revive as they usually did. Golden light drifted through the Void like wandering souls that had lost their way, gradually fading away in the end.
Aizen's gaze turned toward the depths of the starry sky, where Artosh hovered among the stars.
His divine body was countless times stronger than it had been at the start of the battle. The divine ring behind him had transformed into a miniature star, radiating a brilliance that dimmed even the stars.
Yet at this moment, the God of War's face no longer held its previous fervor. In its place was a deep solemnity.
"Solar System level? Or even higher?"
Artosh lowered his head and looked at his hands, feeling the surging power within his body. This divine body had become unimaginably powerful. A casual punch could shatter planets, and he could even easily destroy a star system the size of the Solar System.
But—
"Have I already become unable to grow any stronger?"
His voice trembled soundlessly through the vacuum, carrying a trace of imperceptible unwillingness.
Just moments ago, he had still been able to clearly feel his strength rising to a new level after every death and resurrection. But now, no matter how Saitama blasted him apart, his strength remained stagnant after each revival.
Saitama floated not far away, his red cape fluttering slightly with his movements.
A rare, blazing fighting spirit shone in his eyes, while the wounds on his fists revealed just how intense this battle had been.
When he saw Artosh stop moving, he asked in confusion:
"What's wrong?"
"Not fighting anymore?"
Artosh did not answer.
His thoughts returned to the beginning. When he had taken the position of the God of War, he had