Chapter 216: I Am The God Of Strength Now

Dark mana coiled around Zane’s body like a living shadow, swallowing light and divine authority alike.

For a brief instant, it receded.

Zane turned slightly, raised one hand, and a gentle layer of normal mana wrapped around Eirenyssa, forming a protective barrier that felt warm instead of oppressive. The moment it settled, the abyssal darkness surged back over him, heavier than before.

“Go,” Zane said casually. “Grab some snacks. Or that famous skewers from the god of cooking. Only a few of gods are missing from here .”

Eirenyssa blinked.

“…My lord?”

“I’ll handle things here.”

She hesitated for half a second, then nodded firmly. “Good luck, my lord.”

Zane smiled. “I won’t need it.”

She turned and flew away.

A divine soldier reacted instantly, drawing a radiant blade and flashing toward her path. Before he could even speak, Zane glanced in his direction.

The soldier burst apart.

Not exploded—separated. His body split into countless clean fragments, diced into a million precise pieces that scattered through the air like falling petals.

Zane turned back.

Before him stood the god realm in full force.

Seven higher gods.

Dozens of mid-ranked gods.

Hundreds of officers and divine soldiers flooding the skies, filling every layer above and below, weapons drawn, mana ignited, authority blazing.

Zane spread his arms slightly.

“Above. Below.” His voice carried effortlessly. “Everyone come on.”

Dark mana surged outward.

Primordius roared, flames exploding from his body as divine authority flared across the realm. “ATTACK—!”

They came.

The sky collapsed into motion.

Divine soldiers charged first, formations breaking as they rushed in waves. Spears of light, blades of authority, chains of judgment—all hurled toward Zane at once.

He moved.

Not fast.

Effortless.

A soldier reached him—Zane grabbed his head with one hand and crushed it like ripe fruit. The body fell apart before it hit the ground. Another swung a halberd; Zane stepped inside the strike and tore the soldier in half at the waist.

A mid-god descended from above, hammer blazing.

Zane caught the hammer with two fingers and pushed.

The mid-god vanished, launched backward through three floating continents before exploding somewhere far beyond sight.

Divine officers tried coordination, layering seals and suppression fields, attempting to bind the abyssal mana itself. The moment their spells touched Zane, the dark energy devoured the runes, hollowing them out until the magic collapsed in on itself—taking the casters with it.

Bodies began to fall.

Not dramatically.

Efficiently.

Zane moved through the battlefield like a walking erasure, every casual gesture ending lives. He crushed skulls, tore torsos apart, ripped divine cores from chests and let them dissolve in his palm. Those who tried to flee were pulled back by distorted space and shattered mid-flight.

The god realm did not retreat.

More came.

Mid-gods descended in groups now, unleashing intent-infused attacks that shattered continents and tore through layers of the realm itself. Shockwaves rippled endlessly, the sky flashing with fire, lightning, frost, and force.

Zane walked through it all.

Divine attacks bent around him, split apart, or simply ceased to exist upon contact with the abyssal mana surrounding his body. Where his feet touched the air, space warped. Where his gaze lingered, gods died.

Above, below—everywhere.

The god realm had never seen slaughter like this.

And Zane was still smiling.

A mid-god broke formation and charged.

His body was wrapped in dense divine mana, muscles swelling as authority reinforced every movement. He roared as he flew straight toward Zane, fist drawn back.

“I am Vora,” he shouted, voice tearing through the chaos.

“I hold the title of God of Strength. Take this, you filthy creature—and die!”

The punch came down with enough force to fracture continents.

Zane sidestepped.

Effortlessly.

Before the mid-god’s eyes could even register the miss, Zane’s hand was already on his face.

Palm pressed flat.

The world lurched.

“Let’s go for a ride,” Zane said lightly.

The mid-god’s eyes widened in shock as space itself blurred. He grabbed Zane’s wrist with both hands, muscles bulging, divine mana surging as he tried to pry it off.

It didn’t move.

Not even a fraction.

It was like gripping an unmovable slab of metal.

“You move too much,” Zane muttered.

Dark mana flowed.

Not explosively.

Not violently.

It poured from Zane’s palm in a concentrated stream, seeping directly into the god’s divine body. Divine mana reacted instantly, flaring in resistance—but it was weaker.

And when one overpowered the other, domination followed.

The mid-god’s skin began to melt.

Not liquefy—erode.

As if thousands of microscopic needles were piercing his face at once, burrowing inward, tearing divine flesh apart from the inside. His divine aura warped and flickered, corroded by the abyssal presence.

“Ummh… ummmph—!!!”

The scream never fully formed.

Zane moved.

He flashed forward, dragging the mid-god with him, plowing straight through the ranks of divine soldiers and officers. Bodies shattered as they were struck by the god’s flailing form. Some were crushed instantly. Others were torn apart by the wake of dark mana trailing behind Zane.

Zane laughed.

A genuine sound.

“Aren’t you having fun?” he said, voice carrying easily as he flew.

“Because I am.”

Dark mana surged around his left hand, extending outward, shaping itself into a blade—thin, curved, and impossibly sharp. As Zane flew through the battlefield, he swung it casually, slicing through mid-gods who tried to intercept him.

Divine bodies split cleanly.

Cores shattered.

Authority collapsed.

He carved a path through the god realm’s forces, one hand holding the screaming god by the face, the other cutting down anyone foolish enough to get close.

Above them, the higher gods watched.

Fury twisted their expressions.

Grim realization settled in their eyes.

This wasn’t a battle.

It was a massacre.

Zane came to a stop.

The thing in his hand no longer resembled a god.

What had once been the so-called God of Strength was now nothing more than a corrupted mass of ruined flesh and shattered divinity, dark mana still eating away at what little remained. The mid-god had died long before Zane stopped moving—his body simply hadn’t realized it yet.

Zane let go.

The remains fell, hitting the divine ground below with a wet, meaningless sound.

He glanced at his empty hand, then shrugged slightly.

“For a god of strength,” he said casually, “he was pretty weak.”

Zane lifted his gaze.

All around him, the god realm was scarred. Craters overlapped craters, divine architecture lay in ruins, and bodies—divine soldiers, officers, lesser gods—were scattered like debris after a storm. Some still twitched. Most didn’t.

Then he looked up.

Seven figures hovered above, their presence alone warping the space around them.

Zane smiled.

“Hey,” he called out, waving. “You scaredy-cats done watching yet? Or are you gonna go cry to mommy?”

He clasped his hands together, tilting his head and pulling an exaggerated expression.

“Boo-hoo… a random guy from the mortal world bullied us.”

The reaction was instant.

Divine mana exploded outward from the seven higher gods, each aura far denser, far more refined than anything below. The pressure alone crushed the battlefield. Mid-gods dropped to their knees. Divine soldiers were slammed flat into the ground, bones snapping under invisible force. Officers struggled just to breathe.

This was different.

These were beings who could have done what Lilithara’s team failed to do. Any one of them could have erased those lower gods without effort.

Zane felt it.

And didn’t care.

Looking up at the surging auras, he grinned wider.

“That’s more like it.”

He stretched his neck once, cracking it softly, then added with mock curiosity,

“Oh, by the way—since I killed the God of Strength…”

He tapped his chest lightly.

“Doesn’t that make me the God of Strength now?”

The temperature plummeted.

Glacira’s eyes burned with frozen fury, killing intent condensing into lethal focus.

“You fucking Abyssal,” she hissed. “You dare compare yourself to a god?”

Zane didn’t even look at her.

He laughed.

“Ahahahahaha..”

A deep, unrestrained laugh that echoed through the shattered realm.

“Ahh, so as the God of Strength now,” he said, spreading his arms wide, dark mana surging violently around him,

“I formally challenge all of you for your titles.”

His laughter rang out again, sharp and fearless.

“Ahahahahahahahaha..”

The god realm trembled.

And the war truly began.

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