Godslayer's Legend

"You know I’m not human, demon, or god, right?"

Arthur took a step that spanned the entire distance between them, reaching out and gripping Rachel’s chin with an almost delicate touch.

"I’m a godslayer. My very existence is an antithesis to the god race."

Rachel trembled as she felt the familiar, invasive pulse of Arthur’s magic scanning her being. She instinctively tried to pull away, but her attempts were futile.

"The current you despises me."

Arthur began, his voice unbothered yet edged with amusement.

"Understandable, considering everything you’ve uncovered... and the fact that I’ve just ended Ger. Not only his life but every chance he had at reincarnation."

He leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered in a soft tone.

"I wonder—how would you feel if you became the same as the person you hate so much and want so desperately to kill?"

"?!"

Rachel’s eyes widened, and her instincts screamed at her. The ’Human Race Factors’ within her body flared with alarms, sensing danger beyond her comprehension.

"Congratulations, Rachel."

She barely had a moment to process his words before her very soul roared in protest. A scream of warning echoed in her mind as tendrils of cosmic energy erupted from Arthur’s palm, slithering across her skin.

"You will be the first to bear witness to this ’Authority’ of mine.

Truthfully, you’re little more than a test subject for me to see how effective it is."

The ambient cosmic energy bent to Arthur’s will and his lips parted as he uttered the command that would reshape Rachel’s very existence.

|¬Authority of the Progenitor godslayer: Race Conversion. ¬|

The ability to convert a member of another race to your own.

This Authority was why Arthur had once questioned if the Progenitor Vampire shared his Authority with his entire race, given how effortlessly vampires could sire new kin.

Of course, there were limitations to this.

Converting someone stronger than oneself was nearly impossible.

Converting Elder and Ancient Breeds increased energy expenditure exponentially.

Conversion could also be stopped by the Progenitor of the target’s race.

Rachel was a Human. High-Human to be specific.

But she was just one of the many billions of High-Humans in Valmone, a Universe that was one out of the billions in the Cosmos.

She was in no way, shape or form, an existence that the Progenitor of Humans, Adamas, would care to cast his gaze upon.

As such, nothing could stop Arthur’s Authority.

Cosmic energy and Anti-Divinity surged into her body, and Rachel felt as though her blood were flowing in reverse.

A guttural scream tore from her lips, raw and desperate, as excruciating pain overwhelmed her mind.

Race Factors—the definers of one’s race—existed in both body and soul.

For Arthur’s Race Conversion to work his Authority had to rewrite these factors, shifting them from their original state to the new identity of godslayer factors.

What’s more, it was not 100%.

Take vampires, for instance: when they converted a human, the transformed being would carry 99% vampiric factors and 1% human factors.

Their original ’Human’ factors would remain partially intact, but that didn’t change the fact that they had become a Vampire.

Similarly, in Rachel’s case, 1% of her Human Factors would persist.

But here’s the thing. Cosmic energy was going to fundamentally alter Rachel’s body and soul—two of the three major existential aspects.

How could such a transformation be painless?

Rachel’s screams ripped through the air, blood streamed from her eyes like crimson tears, staining her pale cheeks as her body convulsed violently against the torrent of pain.

Her hands clawed at the ground, her nails cracking under the strain, desperate for any escape from the torment consuming her.

Normally, Race Conversion would knock the target out. Even if they could withstand it, there was little to no point in doing so.

But here, Arthur had consciously switched off that setting, as such, Rachel could not pass out even if she wanted to.

She was a writhing mess, blood spilling through her orifices and this was the sight that Alvey and McEnda met when they approached the area where they sensed Arthur, curious why he hadn’t moved all this while.

They saw the boy seated, drinking tea while reading a newspaper while someone screamed in pain a short distance away.

"Oh, you’re here. Perfect."

Arthur casually finished the last of his tea and set the teacup down, before getting to his feet.

"...what’s going on?"

Alvey asked on behalf of him and the stunned McEnda, and Arthur answered calmly.

"The Aramisians figured out who I was, and they crafted a ploy to kill me. Unsurprisingly, it failed."

The two Demons could see that much, given the devastation around them and the corpses of the dragons nearby.

Arthur didn’t say anymore, instead, he bit his finger and dripped some of his blood onto the ground.

|¬Come forth, Stelan. Your Progenitor summons you. ¬|

A few seconds later, the middle-aged godslayer stepped out of the summoning circle that appeared, his sword half-drawn as he scanned the area around him.

"...it seems we’re far from the action..."

Stelan had been briefed about today’s battle, but that wasn’t done physically. As such, when he turned his gaze in Arthur’s direction, the man’s jaw dropped.

He let out a depreciating laugh and shook his head.

’He’s already stronger than I am...’

Stelan remembered when Arthur first summoned him in Duskhand a year ago, and he shook his head with a wry smile.

Arthur, despite guessing Stelan’s thoughts, ignored them and focused on Rachel, now unconscious after enduring the harrowing Race Conversion.

He seized her limp arm and tossed her towards Stelan, who instinctively caught her mid-air.

"Behold, the first artificial High-godslayer in existence."

Arthur declared and Stelan’s eyebrows lifted at the word ’artificial’. Though unfamiliar with Race Conversion, the implication was clear—this young woman had not been born a godslayer like him but forcibly transformed.

Arthur stepped forward and crouched, placing a hand on Rachel’s forehead. A faint pulse of cosmic energy coursed through her, jolting her awake. Her eyes fluttered open, bloodshot and rimmed with dried tears, as she weakly met his gaze.

"How does it feel to be a godslayer?"

He asked, his voice laced with a taunting curiosity and though Rachel’s lips trembled, no words came out.

"Granted, you can’t feel much of anything yet."

Her body quivered, her mind reeling from the pain she had endured. Her voice, hoarse and broken, finally surfaced.

"...please... just kill me."

Hearing her, Arthur burst into laughter, shaking his head as he spoke.

Arthur’s laughter rang out, cold and mocking.

"Didn’t I tell you before? I’m far too fond of you to do that."

"..."

Knowing that Rachel might just off herself at the thought of suffering through the pain of Race Conversion again, Arthur tapped her finger and used Race Command.

Simply put, he made it impossible for her to kill herself, even with a borrowed hand. Even if she didn’t want to, her body would move to try and survive regardless of the situation.

After doing this, he turned to Stelan and spoke.

"Take her to Nienope. We’d put her with the other foot soldiers and run some tests to compare their power potencies.

She’s not for today’s battle but for the ones that follow. Return with the others once you do that. This ’Final War’ is already in its ’Final Stages’."

Without a word, Stelan nodded and leapt into the magic circle, disappearing with Rachel in tow.

Left behind, Arthur, Alvey, and McEnda turned their gazes upward, watching streaks of light pierce through the overcast sky.

Despite the chaos and disarray among the Aramisians, the presence of Alvey and McEnda was impossible to ignore, especially since neither of the two hid their power.

They had to gather Superior Transcendents and send them in the direction of the two demons, but upon arriving and seeing Arthur radiate Superior Transcendent-level power as well, their expressions contorted.

Arthur glanced at them and activated both his Progenitor Authority and his Gravity Pseudo-Authority in tandem.

The first sapped their strength, and the second crushed them under the unbearable weight of multiplied gravity, dragging them from the skies to the ground.

The air shimmered, distorting under the oppressive force. For the Divine Humans and Elves, even standing became a herculean task.

Arthur, the source of their torment, floated above them, his heterochromatic eyes glowing as his Faux True Voice echoed through the continent.

|¬Hear me, Aramisians. I care not for the outcome of your war against Gozon’s armies.

I only care for one thing.

Bring Duskhand to me immediately. ¬|

As his words resounded, Arthur unleashed a surge of Anti-Divinity, rippling across millions of miles.

Casualties began to climb at a horrifying rate as the weakening of the Divines gave the Demons openings to take advantage of.

|¬You have five seconds to comply.

For every second that passes without Duskhand standing before me, thousands of your soldiers will perish.

Starting now. One. ¬|

With a snap of his fingers, Arthur summoned a towering pillar of Destruction energy, which crashed down onto the remains of Gledea’s High Command, obliterating everything left of it.

|¬Two. ¬|

Another snap and a cosmic gate materialized in the sky. A meteor emerged, plummeting to the frontlines and eradicating all life below the Epic Realm within its devastating impact zone.

|¬Three. ¬|

Arthur snapped again, and an Aramisian base erupted in a violent explosion of Anti-Divinity. The cries of Low-Rank gods echoed as they were consumed by the destruction.

|¬Fo—STOPPP!!!!!!]

The plea cut through the air, halting Arthur mid-count. He paused, turning towards the source of the desperate cry, his grin spreading wider.

|¬Lucky. You wouldn’t have liked what would’ve happened if I reached five. ¬|

Duskhand emerged, his laboured breaths heavy and uneven, sweat streaking down his brow and dripping onto the ground.

He glared right at Arthur, but there was a trace of caution in those eyes of his.

Facing his gaze, Arthur smiled, Celestia’s blade refracting light as he summoned it.

"Hello, Duskhand. Been a while. Let’s have a rematch, shall we?"

The boy’s grin turned wicked as he became a streak of light, hurtling toward Duskhand. Their weapons collided in a blinding clash, Celestia meeting the Divine’s Spear with a cataclysmic explosion.

The sheer force ripped through the air, sending shockwaves that ruffled Alvey and McEnda’s coats as they watched the battle unfold.

Suddenly, every Divine across the battlefield sensed something—the suppression was gone.

Arthur’s Progenitor Authority had been willingly deactivated. The Divines could now fight at their full strength against the Demons.

Alvey’s frown deepened at this realization. He disliked this part of Arthur’s plan. Yet, he conceded that without Arthur’s intervention, they would have had to face the Divines’ full power regardless.

Besides, Alvey was confident in ending this War today regardless of Arthur’s input.

Summoning his Morphic Edge, Alvey infused the weapon with his radiant light energy. Beside him, McEnda called forth his staff and did the same with his corrosive darkness.

The two unleashed their Pseudo-Authorities, black and white surges of raw energy erupting from their bodies.

Without hesitation, they charged towards the crowd of Transcendents before them, and blood sprayed in the air.