A crimson arc sliced through the void. Alex's blades—hundreds of them—rushed for Raven's throat.
But she was too fast. Moving like a shadow, she weaved between the deadly strikes, untouched.
Raven smirked. "So, you truly intend to defy fate, child of an Agniverta?"
Alex didn't slow. His body blurred between the trees, his next wave of attacks already forming. He scoffed. "Fate? Child? What nonsense are you spewing?"
Raven sidestepped in midair, dodging another blade with effortless grace.
"We are gods, whether you accept it or not," she said. "We shape the world, decide its fate. We are superior in every facet."
Superior?
Alex's laughter was sharp, laced with nothing but disdain.
"You think you're superior?" His blades circled him, glinting like fangs. "The word 'god' is nothing more than an illusion for the weak. You people are nothing but cultists—preying on fear, feeding off the trembling masses who kneel at your feet. All so you can call yourselves divine."
Raven's gaze darkened. A goddess wouldn't tolerate such insolence. "You don't understand, Agniverta. We aid your kind. And yet, you humans—cunning bastards—show no gratitude!"
Alex shifted, moving like a ghoul between the trees. "No gratitude? Is that what you tell yourself?"
His voice was low, but it carried through the battlefield.
His fingers curled, and in an instant, dozens of crimson beads erupted from the air, streaking toward Raven.
"Let me tell you something." He stepped forward, the beads twisting, reforming into blades. "When a man is drowning, and a so-called savior pulls him from the water, who does he thank?"
The air trembled as his weapons multiplied.
"If I wiped out an entire kingdom but spared one man, he'd see me as a savior." His grin widened. "But do you know who he'd pray to for his life?"
His golden eyes gleamed as he watched Raven, her smirk unchanging.
"A god. A fake one. Like you."
Raven dodged again, untouchable, unmoved. It was as if she had seen a thousand men just like him before—fools who thought words could shake a god.
"You know nothing, Agniverta," she said coldly. "We are the ones who dictate the course of this world."
Meanwhile, at the entrance of the dungeon, a man lay on the ground—the head bishop of the church, his robes stained with dust.
His eyes remained shut, but a faint whisper escaped his lips.
"So, it has begun."
"When my father hears why I have done this… he will understand. He will forgive me."
His fingers twitched, gripping the earth.
"Raven… no—Goddess Raven. I should be grateful to even witness her presence."
And yet…
"She offered me that. That… that…"
His breath hitched.
His trembling hand covered his face.
….
No. You never did.
The ground beneath Alex's feet crumbled to dust as his blood Qi surged, doubling in force.
"You don't get to decide someone's fate."
For the first time, Raven's movements faltered—just for a split second. But that was all Alex needed.
A god's power was like a mountain before a human, but Alex had one advantage… she was only a fragment of that power. If he could force just one mistake, one opening—this battle would be decided.
Alex pressed forward.
"Tell me, oh mighty god."
"A child born among murderers—what crime did he commit before he even took his first breath? A child born in a brothel, doomed before he could even dream—where is the justice in that?"
His eyes gleamed with something far more dangerous than anger—certainty.
"Karma is a lie," he said. "And I know that far better than you ever could."
Raven's jaw clenched. "The world is bound by karma! It rewards and punishes as it must!"
"Fool. I thought a god would be interesting to fight, given that you are older than the people of this world. But you are the same… you can't even grasp the weight of my words."
For the first time, Raven hesitated.
Alex paused, watching her closely—assessing her movements.
Then, moving forward with slow, deliberate steps, he spoke.
"The fault doesn't lie in men," he said. "It lies in heaven itself. In the ones who claim dominion over life and death. In the gods who pity one soul and curse another. In the beings who dare to rule over those who never asked to be ruled."
!!Wush!!
Raven dodged another attack, but this time—she wasn't fast enough.
A thin line of red traced her neck.
Blood dripped down.
The trees around them had already shattered, torn apart by the sheer force of their battle.
Yet Raven… didn't pause.
Her smile widened. But it was not a normal smile—it was something horribly unnatural, filled with an absurdity that sent chills through the air. Her mouth stretched unnaturally, her lips arching so far that they nearly touched her eyes.
Her skin writhed.
A sound—a grotesque mix of a hiss and a crow's cry—rippled through the battlefield, creeping into every corner of the shattered forest.
The wound at her neck reversed itself. Skin stitched together, strands of muscle knitting back like a web being rewoven. The droplets of blood, still sliding down her skin, rose back into the wound as if time itself had been rewound.
It was as if Alex had never even touched her.
"Don't you think we should stop fighting with words, Agniverta?"
Before he could react—she moved.