Artosh let out a savage roar, but in this world of Golden Swords, the power he took such pride in was utterly useless.
The towering figure of the giant who boasted of being the strongest served as nothing more than an excellent target.
Then blade after blade pierced his body.
In the past, even Roland's full-powered attacks had needed the Anti-Messiah trait to leave wounds on Artosh, but now every Golden Sword forged from Word Spirits could easily run him through.
The Golden Sword inscribed with the strongest was precisely the nemesis that could sever and seal the strongest.
Artosh had already lost the constant corrective power granted by the rules. Even if someone surpassed his current strength, he could no longer instantly use them as a stepping stone, and the notion of his invincibility had become a fantasy.
His height was the next thing to rapidly diminish. The hundred-meter giant became a burly man only twice a person's height, and that figure that seemed to blot out everything and rival heaven and earth became a vanished dream.
Standing where he was, Artosh was easily pierced by the approaching rain of swords. They riddled his powerful muscles with holes, from which crimson blood flowed, staining the golden ground red.
The light on his body slowly dimmed, until at last it vanished entirely amid the endless rain of swords.
But to Artosh, what troubled him more than the damage brought by the jubilant ringing of the blades was the dormancy of the Divine Core within him.
The terror of the Golden Sword lay in its ability to seal divinity. Although the power within Artosh had not diminished in the slightest, the Old Deus were living concepts in essence. Though they themselves were immortal, their Divine Cores, which served as their material