This was Death. This was an entity all feared. A presence that even the most powerful couldn’t escape. It had taken his parents from him and who knows how much it would take from him in the future.

Yet, this very Death, the very thing so many put their hearts and souls into defeating… Walked like a fool! He battled like a clown! He screamed like a madman!

Dyon couldn’t find anything to laugh about. For every comical action Death took, the fire in his gaze, his limbs… his heart… They grew fiercer.

Dyon’s war qi billowed uncontrollably. The air and atmospheric qi around him boiled, giving off a heat far fiercer than even the true War himself. .𝒎

War’s weapon responded in kind. The mysterious qi of this world may have relied on faith comprehended over countless years, but ultimately, its foundation still lied within its host.

War had simply never felt the level of rage Dyon was feeling right now. He hadn’t ever reached the point of wanting to destroy everything. .𝒎

Dyon’s crimson sword flashed forward, both of his hands tightening around its hilt as it exploded to over ten meters in size.

Death’s steed was sliced in half completely, its rotting flesh flying through the air only to be incinerated by Dyon’s raging war qi.

Death quickly reacted, sweeping its scythe upward and screaming outward with its shrill cry once more, a fog of death qi whipping about it.

Sword and scythe met.

Dyon’s gaze seemed to want to pierce through Death’s flaming pupils and out his skull, his own roar drowning Death’s.

The fourth horsemen could no longer remain firmly planted. His lanky body was sent flying, crashing into a bestial pillar only to produce the very first crack this battlefield had seen since its creation.

Dyon saw red. The whole world became tinting in crimson, flickering from shades of deep magenta to almost fluorescent pink.

He didn’t have the mind to think about it as he furiously lashed out against Death, but this was the true strength of this world’s qi: the ability to feed off emotion.

Whenever Dyon met a challenge he couldn’t surmount, he had always used his mind to achieve victory.

Against Loki, he tricked him into grabbing the Dragon King. In his second trial, he relied on King Viserion double crossing the Moon Clan to clinch victory. Within the Golden Flame Mystical World, he used Orcus’ weakness to his wife’s life flame. Against the Numbered Warriors and Aritzia’s plot, he diligently planned each step of the way, ensnaring his enemies into a deeper and deeper trap with every passing moment.

There were countless more examples of Dyon doing exactly this…

However, in his current state, Dyon wasn’t doing any of these things. More accurately… He didn’t need to.

Dyon savagely assaulted Death, not allowing his back to leave the pillar he landed on. At some point, Dyon even discarded his crimson sword entirely, focusing all of his strength into his fists.

Dyon could feel Death’s armor denting against his strikes, but he didn’t let up. His gaze became so red that it almost dripped blood of its own.

With a flash of his hand, he grabbed Death’s scrawny neck, lifting him into the air and crashing him into the ground below.

He picked him up and threw him to the ceiling, leaping the air as he came down only to kick him across the room to crack yet another pillar.

Under the immense heat, Dyon’s skin cracked and blistered, his wounds searing closed from the inside out. However, he was completely unrelenting.

How dare Death make such a joke of itself? Was it trying to look down on his pain? Did the deaths of his loved ones mean nothing to it? Were his parents’ heads just another set of skulls on his long chain?

Death’s helmet was knocked away, revealing a white skeleton with bobbing blue flames behind its empty sockets. Its jaw rattled as it screamed toward Dyon, trying to take a bite out of his head.

Dyon stuffed his fist into Death’s mouth, grabbing his spine and pulling with all his strength.

Death’s body was whipped about viciously, slamming against the ground, the walls, the pillars, and even the doors he exited from.

Maybe if Death had concrete thoughts, he would wonder why his death qi wasn’t working against Dyon. Didn’t his qi work on everyone? He reaped lives as he pleased and no one, not even his own companion steed, could escape it.

However, Death wasn’t a being with true sentience. Maybe this was part of the reason Dyon was so enraged. There was no real face to this disaster everyone faced, just looming, flickering balls of blue flame, screaming into the ether and waiting for its next life to reap.

This ‘Death’ Dyon was facing shouldn’t be mistaken. This horseman could only represent the people of this world. This was the same for Famine, War and Conquest, they only embodied the Faiths of this world alone.

However, this clownish, beast-like Death still pushed Dyon over the edge. He couldn’t help but think that this was all Death ever was. There was nothing to beat. It wasn’t an enemy he could simply find and defeat, it wasn’t one he could trick with his mind… There was nothing he could do about it.

With a roar, Dyon sheered Death’s arm from its socket, whipping it across his skeleton face and sending him across the room.

His rampaging had shattered Death’s bones in many places. Let alone fight back, Death couldn’t even continue to scream as it had been doing so.

‘This was all death ever was.’

Infuriated, Dyon slapped his palms against Death’s skull, shattering it to pieces.

He thought back to many years ago… The words of Researcher Aimoi…

‘Isn’t it curious? Why do the Heavens place arbitrary caps on life? Why is it that a Ninth Order Celestial and the weakest Celestial will still only live 10 000 years? Shouldn’t there be a difference between them?’

If life could be grasped through cultivation… Why were things like this?

Updated from .𝘤𝘰