Chapter 304: Ch 304 : A Pact Between Brothers

The Throne Room, City of Gods.

Sunny stared at the description of the new talent, floating directly in his mind. The content of the description illuminated his eyes, complementing the expression of shock etched onto his face.

[Talent Name: Divine Adaptability]

[Grade: SSS-Grade]

[Description: You are an entity rejected by Death and embraced by Evolution. Fate has blessed you with the ultimate survival mechanism.]

[Absolute Resilience: If a specific attack, element or Law fails to kill you instantly, your body and soul will analyze it. You will gain a rapidly increasing resistance to that specific source, eventually rendering it harmless.]

[Racial Resonance: As the Progenitor, your adaptability trickles down. All lifeforms under your banner posses SS-Grade Resilience. Their bodies will naturally evolve to counter their environments, granting them innate immunities to heat, cold, poison or many other elements.]

“…”

Sunny sat in silence, the rhythm of his heartbeat filling the room.

The word Divine wasn’t thrown around lightly by the multiverse. As Edgar, the Royal Void Beast, had told him earlier: Talents with Divine in their name were the apex. They were the cheat codes.

And Sunny? He was hoarding them.

“Not only am I unkillable thanks to Divine Immortality,” Sunny whispered, his mind racing through the tactical implications. “But now… if I die and revive, I become immune to what killed me.”

He leaned back, his heart hammering against his ribs like a war drum.

“This is the Best and also a Suicidal Combo.”

He imagined a battle against Maledictus, the Demon Lord of Curses.

She casts a Death Curse. Sunny dies.

His Divine Immortality kicks in. He revives instantly.

But now, Divine Adaptability analyzes the curse that killed him. It rewrites the code of Sunny’s soul and body.

If Maledictus casts the curse again. It will just bounce off him like rain on a windowpane.

“It is the perfect counter to the Demon Lords,” Sunny realized. “They rely on Conceptual Laws. Discord. Despair. Curses. But a concept only works if the target’s mind can perceive it. If I adapt… their greatest weapons become useless.”

Of course, there was a catch. The Multiverse was balanced, even for him.

“The adaptation isn’t infinite,” Sunny analyzed, narrowing his eyes. “If Maledictus uses a SS-Grade Curse and I adapt, I will still be vulnerable to an SSS-Grade Curse.”

Still, it was broken.

“This talent is awesome,” Sunny grinned.

However, a shadow crossed his mind. The rats.

Kairos and Mongo were still out there, whispering secrets in the ears of the demon Lords. The Demon Lords knew about his revivals.

The legend of Emperor Cosmos, the God who died more than thousand times against Edgar to save his people was a popular song in the taverns of the City of Gods.

“If Deimos knows I can revive,” Sunny mused, his fingers tapping the armrest, “he won’t try to kill me with brute force. He will try to seal me. Or erase my existence entirely with a single, overpowering strike that can even counter my Divine Immortality.”

Sunny’s eyes went cold. “I cannot rely on reviving during the main battle. I need to be immune before the first punch is thrown.”

An idea, cruel and brilliant, formed in his mind.

He looked at his hands. Or rather, he looked at the connection to his Clones.

“I have sixteen Soul Clones. They share my body. They share my talents.”

“If Clone A hits Clone B with Fire Magic until Clone B dies… does the Main Body gain Fire Immunity?”

The answer was a resounding Yes.

Sunny nodded, his resolve hardening. He sent a mental command across the multiverse to two of his combat clones currently scouting a dead universe.

“Revive and Repeat. Do not stop until we are immune to everything.”

Somewhere in a distant universe, two gods wearing Sunny’s iconic robe and mask face drew their weapons.

One summoned a storm of Lightning. The other summoned a sea of Fire.

They didn’t speak. They simply collided, beginning a cycle of self-inflicted torture for the sake of absolute power.

With his defenses securing themselves, Sunny shifted his focus. He needed to check the foundation.

His consciousness left the Throne Room. Directly zooming straight into the heart of his empire, Veridia.

It was blinding.

Even from space, the planet glowed with the mana and technology. The population had exploded, not just in numbers, but in quality too.

Following in the footsteps of the First Generation of demigods: Light, Thorn, and Ragnok, a new wave of Demigods has risen.

Leaders like Anaske (Human), Thalorax (Dragonborn), and Vel (Elf) had ascended. Their children were ascending. Even their grandchildren were showing signs of divinity.

Demigods were popping up like popcorn.

Sunny drifted down to a quiet mountain peak on the central continent. There, a simple wooden tea house sat overlooking a sea of clouds.

Two figures sat across from each other.

One was Anaske, the Ex-Human leader and Demigod of the Sword. He looked like a middle aged man with raven-black hair, his presence sharp and cold like a blade.

The other was Vel, the Elven Archmage. He looked eternally young, his eyes swirling with elemental mana.

They sipped tea in silence, listening to the wind.

“Anaske,” Vel broke the silence, placing his cup down. “What do you think about immortality? Now that we have had it for a few decades… is it as boring as the storybooks claimed?”

Anaske didn’t look up. He stared at the black scabbard resting on the table, a weapon gifted to him by the Creator.

“Boring?” Anaske chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. “It has only been a few decades since we ascended, old friend. Ask me again in a million years.”

He ran a finger along the hilt of his sword.

“Besides… boredom is a luxury for the peaceful. We are not at peace.”

Vel sighed, the sound heavy with unsaid worries. “True. The war.”

“The war is coming,” Anaske whispered. “I can feel it. When the demons come… immortality might not be enough. Nine lives might not be enough.”

He looked up, his eyes burning with a terrifying resolve.

“I am not bored, Vel. Immortality gives me the time I need. Time to perfect the slash that cuts through dimensions. Time to become not just a Demigod who uses a sword… but the God of the Sword.”

“I have decided,” Anaske announced. “I am entering a closed-door cultivation session. I will enter the Sword Tomb. I will not come out until the war horn blows.”

Vel nodded slowly. He wasn’t surprised. Anaske had always been a maniac for the blade.

“I… I was thinking the same thing,” Vel admitted, tracing the rim of his teacup. “But my path is different.”

Anaske raised an eyebrow. “Where will you go? The Magic Tower?”

“No,” Vel said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “The Realm of Spirits.”

Clack.

Anaske’s hand spasmed, knocking his tea over.

“What?!” Anaske exclaimed, ignoring the spilling liquid. “Are you insane? You are an Elf! The Realm of Spirits is a dimension of energy. Physical bodies disintegrate there! It is a graveyard for the living beings!”

“I know,” Vel said calmly. “But I had a dream. The Emperor… he appeared to me.”

“He said it is possible,” Vel continued, his eyes shining with faith. “He said that if I possess the will, I can enter the City of Gods and use the Spirit Gate”

“Vel…” Anaske warned. “I heard stories from the Library. That realm is inhabited by Spirit Demigods, beings that doesn’t like any intruder entering in their.”

“Don’t worry,” Vel smiled, though his hands were trembling slightly. “I have an escape talisman. I have my Nine Lives. And most importantly… I have the fear of being weak.”

Vel looked out at the clouds.

“If I stay here, studying books, I will be fodder in the war. But every day I survive in that Realm… every spirit I tame… will make me stronger. If I return, I will not be just a mage. I will be a disaster.”

Anaske looked at his friend. He saw the same fire in Vel’s eyes that burned in his own.

They were the Second Generation. They had lived in the shadow of the First. They had lived in the safety of the Emperor’s grace.

But they were done being safe.

“Fine,” Anaske said, picking up his sword and standing up. “Then let us make a pact.”

“We do not die,” Anaske declared. “We meet back here, on this mountain, when the sky turns red with demons. And we see who has become stronger.”

Vel stood up and clasped Anaske’s arm. “Agreed. Don’t get rusty in your cave, old man.”

“Don’t get eaten by ghosts, pointy-ears.”

Sunny watched them part ways. He watched Anaske walk into the dark cave of the Sword Tomb, sealing the entrance behind him.

He watched Vel fly toward the City of Gods, ready to throw himself into a dimension of chaos.

And it wasn’t just them.

Across Veridia, thousands of Demigods were making similar choices.

The Dragonborn were diving into the magma cores of volcanoes to temper their scales.

The Orcs were engaging in death-matches in the Arena where revival was turned off.

The Humans were experimenting with even stronger magitech that exploded more often than it worked.

The Golden Era wasn’t making them soft. It was giving them the resources to be reckless.

“Good,” Sunny whispered, withdrawing his consciousness from the planet.

“They are preparing for the end of the world. And thanks to my new Talent…”

He looked at his own hand, feeling the hum of Divine Adaptability.

“…I will make sure they have a world left to defend.”

“Now,” Sunny turned his gaze back to the vast map of his territory. “Let’s finish the planetary visits. I have a billion more worlds to bless before the enemy arrives.”

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