After dealing with yet another wave of necromorphs, Alex and Slayer continued pushing forward. When the snowstorm finally subsided, visibility greatly improved — but that came with its downsides. Now, throughout the entire path, they could clearly see the black obelisk in the distance — the true form of the Minister of Monoliths.

Alex didn’t understand why he was still pretending to be a lifeless structure. Why not come out like a typical villain, deliver a monologue about superiority and plans to destroy the universe? But no — instead, as if mocking them, he kept sending new waves of necromorphs.

This time they were far more vicious than before. Among them appeared new types. One of the most disgusting was the Pregnant — a massive necromorph whose swollen belly housed a swarm of tiny parasites. Alex was about to warn Slayer as soon as he spotted the first one, but he was too late. The chainsaw had already roared to life and carved into the monster’s gut, unleashing a writhing mass of vile creatures.

The situation became more complicated due to the snow reaching their knees, allowing the parasites to instantly vanish beneath the surface, becoming nearly invisible. But Alex and Slayer adapted quickly — and all that was left of those guests were a few tracks in the snow and chunks of meat.

The next “surprise” came in the form of an Exploder. The first one attacked from around a corner as they passed another set of ruins. Slayer managed to throw up a shield — and the explosion went off point-blank. But Slayer only exhaled in annoyance, as if someone had slapped him. Of course, a direct explosion wasn’t going to stop him.

Alex, scanning the area with a frown, already knew — an Exploder never came alone. And he was right: from every crevice, behind every rock, dozens more of the creatures began to crawl out. Their simultaneous detonation leveled everything around. The chain of explosions flattened the ancient ruins completely. The ground beneath their feet trembled — and the next moment, Alex and Slayer once again plummeted into the earth.

As they fell into yet another dark cave, Alex could’ve sworn he heard mocking laughter echoing in the distance — the Minister of Monoliths… and possibly Davoth. The two of them were clearly enjoying the show.

Landing with a heavy thud, Alex cursed under his breath and raised his hand. A sphere of light flared above his palm, pushing back the darkness. His irritation reached a boiling point. He could feel the fury bubbling in his chest and was almost ready to snap. In his mind, the Minister of Monoliths had officially become the third Nyan-Nyan avatar he’d have to deal with — and frankly, the most annoying one of them all.

Alex knew: that bastard now topped the list of people he really wanted to beat the crap out of the moment he got the chance.

While he wrestled with his frustration, Slayer had already begun scanning the cave. Alex inhaled deeply, exhaled, forced himself to cool down, and began exploring the surroundings. On one of the walls, he spotted another mural — and upon seeing what it depicted, he burst out laughing.

“Hmm?” Slayer rasped, turning his head toward the sound.

“Sorry, it’s just…” Alex pointed at the mural. “It’s another tale of Tau Volantis. And it’s done with so much drama, like the artist was trying to flex — like a school kid at a contest.”

Slayer stepped closer. At that moment, Vega was already scanning the image through the visor of his helmet. Alex, wiping away tears of laughter, continued:

“Here it shows the moment the Minister of Monoliths first arrived in their world. The mural praises him like he’s some kind of god. See? They’re even kneeling before him. It’s painted with so much awe, you’d think they were about to hand him a Nobel Prize.”

“Hmm,” Slayer grumbled, staring at the drawings.

“Alright, let me break it down. This is where all the crap begins. The people of Tau Volantis were trying to surpass the boundaries of space and time, dreaming of traveling between worlds. Only… they didn’t open the portal where they wanted — they opened it to an entirely different dimension. And that’s where he came from. The Minister of Monoliths.”

“At first, they welcomed him as a deity. He ‘blessed’ them with knowledge and ‘greatness,'” Alex said with a crooked smile, “and then it all followed the usual script. Fanaticism, worship, cults. Straight out of the textbook. Judging by the mural, they even built the first Black Marker themselves — like a temple in his honor.”

“Sir,” Vega cut in through the comms, “is it possible that the people of Tau Volantis created the cult around the being you refer to as the Minister of Monoliths before they realized what they had let into their world?”

“Exactly. They built that monolith, and he just… waited. When they were done, he did what he does best. He consumed them. Made the world his. And then came the interdimensional travel, sending Marker fragments into other worlds with intelligent life.”

Alex lit a cigarette, shielding the flame with his hand from the faint draft.

“He didn’t even have to do anything himself. Just toss a bone, and the locals start tearing each other apart. All he has to do is sit there and eat. Like someone placed a buffet on the table and said, ‘Bon appétit.'”

Slayer nodded at Alex’s words, but it didn’t change his resolve. As they had agreed earlier — Alex would fight the Minister of Monoliths, and Slayer would take on Davoth.

Done surveying the cave, Alex found a narrow passage leading back to the surface. He didn’t want to reveal his full abilities too soon — better not to spook the target. As long as the Minister and Davoth still believed things were going according to plan, Alex intended to let them keep thinking so.

Moving through the dark tunnel, Alex kept illuminating the way with the glowing orb floating above his palm. After going a little deeper, he and Slayer finally reached a collapsed passage that was likely the exit to the surface. Alex thought, maybe this time there won’t be any surprises, but—

A strange rustling echoed from behind. Alex and Slayer turned in unison — a fast, nearly invisible necromorph darted out of the shadows. In the next moment, it was in Slayer’s hands, and without hesitation, he ripped it in half.

Alex frowned. Something felt off. He stepped toward the rubble, preparing to clear it, when he once again heard a strange sound from behind. The necromorph’s corpse began to twitch in convulsions. Alex narrowed his eyes — and understood everything.

“Ah, that’s why it looked familiar…” he muttered, snapping his fingers. “It’s a Regenerator. Or… what do they call it… an Ubermorph.”

“Hmm,” Slayer rasped, keeping his eyes on the body.

“Don’t give me that look. You killed it so fast I didn’t even get a good look. This thing regenerates endlessly. Only way to deal with it is either absolute-zero freezing or complete vaporization. Since you didn’t finish it off, guess it’s my turn to show how it’s done,” Alex smirked.

He walked up to the nearly fully regenerated body and extended his hand. His palm hovered just inches from the Ubermorph’s face. The moment it was almost completely restored, Alex snapped his fingers — and the creature instantly exploded into a cloud of crimson mist.

Alex raised his thumb toward Slayer with a smirk. The latter stared at him in silence, and Alex was almost certain — under that helmet, Slayer just rolled his eyes.

Shrugging off the thought, Alex turned toward the blockage and took a combat stance, stretching his palm forward.

“Eight Trigrams: Stone-Crushing Strike,” he said, focusing power into his hand.

With a sharp thrust forward, a burst of compressed air shot from his palm, obliterating the debris as if it had never been there. The path out was clear.

Climbing to the surface, Alex and Slayer immediately realized something: the cave path had been much shorter. The Black Marker, towering into the clouds, was now far closer. What was once half the journey before the fall — was now just a quarter.

“Looks like the collapse worked in our favor. By my calculations, we’ve only got a quarter of the way left,” Alex said, gazing at the top of the obelisk. He could feel the weight of a foreign, heavy gaze — the Minister of Monoliths was watching them.

“Hmm,” Slayer grunted in agreement.

“Alright then, let’s keep moving. And if another pack of necromorphs dares to jump us, I swear I’ll wipe this whole planet off the damn star map,” Alex muttered irritably, marching forward.

And, of course, fate didn’t take long to throw them a new challenge.

Another wave of necromorphs — but this time, they were mutated. Not ordinary ones. Alex noticed immediately: these had been made from the bodies of Davoth’s demons. Among them were twisted forms resembling Hell Barons, Hell Knights, and even smaller ones that looked like imps. It was clear these creatures were hybrids — demon-necromorphs.

It only confirmed one thing: they were close. The Minister of Monoliths and Davoth were likely just ahead.

The battle dragged on — these new necromorphs were far tougher and more dangerous than the ones before. Alex and Slayer slaughtered them with relative ease, but it still took time and effort to bring down every last demonic hybrid.

But just as the final corpse fell, their path was blocked by a strange wall of snow.

Alex approached it, frowning. He picked up a stone and tossed it into the white barrier. The rock vanished without a sound.

“This isn’t just a storm… looks more like a wall,” he muttered.

“Hmm,” Slayer rasped, staring intently at the dense snowy curtain.

Alex paused for a moment, then pulled a small flying drone from his inventory. Activating the device, he piloted it upward to scout the area. As the drone climbed higher, Alex realized with surprise that this snowstorm formed a massive wall stretching far into the sky — much higher than it had appeared at first glance.

Slayer stood beside him, his eyes locked on Alex’s tablet screen showing the drone’s camera feed. Scanning the area in all directions, Alex concluded the storm formed a giant circle, several hundred kilometers in radius.

Retrieving the drone and storing it back in his inventory, Alex scowled. He rubbed his chin and activated his magical sight — and the truth became clear. This storm wasn’t natural. It was a barrier, separating one world from another. The space beyond the wall of snow and ice was foreign — the personal domain of the Minister of Monoliths.

Alex nodded, coming to a conclusion: the only thing left was to pass through the storm. And then they’d be right at their target.

“We’re here. All that’s left is to cross this storm… and then we beat the living hell out of the Minister of Monoliths and Davoth,” Alex said, staring ahead.

“Hmm,” Slayer responded, cracking his knuckles as he stepped forward.

“Wait. For the love of all that’s holy, can you not charge straight through just this once?” Alex grabbed Slayer’s shoulder. “There’s no need to brute force your way through the blizzard when we can do this… with a bit more style. Watch and learn.”

Without waiting for a response, Alex summoned Yamato. With a single upward slash, he cleaved the storm in two. A glowing rift lingered in the air — temporary, but enough to pass through. Sheathing the blade, Alex stepped forward before the passage closed behind him.

Slayer followed, each of his steps echoing dully across the stone.

It was as if they had walked through a portal — and now found themselves in a completely different world. There was no snow here. Around them stretched a bleak plain paved with black stone, foreign and alien to the planet itself.

Ahead, a wide road of smooth black brick led directly to a towering temple. On either side of the path stood obelisks — not Black Markers, as Alex first thought, but statues depicting the Minister of Monoliths himself.

Alex looked up — and there, looming behind the temple like a crown atop a grotesque kingdom, stood the true body of the Minister. It towered over the land like a shadow upon the mind. Being so close to the obelisk meant feeling its presence in every fiber — both Alex and Slayer could feel its pressure radiating from within the temple.

As they moved forward, they examined their surroundings carefully. Their eyes kept returning to the statues of the Minister of Monoliths lining the road.

Each statue depicted a monolithic form carved with runes from top to bottom, ending in four curved, crustacean-like legs covered in thick armor. Just above those legs was a trifoil-shaped orange eye — one that seemed to follow their every step.

Stopping at the base of the temple, they gazed at the massive black doors, etched with crimson inscriptions in the Marker language.

“Ready, Slayer? Behind these doors are the bastards we came all this way for,” Alex asked, his eyes fixed on the entrance.

“Hmm,” Slayer rasped without moving.

“Then let’s go. Time to show these freaks they should’ve stayed hiding in their damned holes.”

With a wide grin, Alex stepped forward, placing his foot on the first stair of the temple.

He ascended with the confidence of a predator, and his grin widened further, revealing sharp teeth. Above the structure loomed the obelisk — the true body of the Minister, dark and menacing.

Slayer walked beside him. The stone cracked under his boots, leaving spiderweb fractures in the floor. With every step, the fire of his wrath flared brighter. His fists were clenched so tightly that the knuckles cracked beneath his gloves.

When they reached the doors, Alex raised his foot, ready to kick them open — but before he could, the heavy doors began to creak open on their own.

“Heh. Now that’s how you welcome someone home,” Alex chuckled, stepping inside.

The interior of the temple didn’t differ much from the outside — the same black stone beneath their feet, covered in Marker glyphs, and the same grotesque statues lining the walls.

It was clear the Minister had commanded his followers to fill every inch of this place with symbols of his greatness — the temple resembled not a place of worship, but a massive monument to the ego of a mad god.

At the end of the long corridor, another pair of massive doors awaited. Alex didn’t even bother trying to read the inscriptions — once again, the doors opened on their own.

As the heavy black doors slowly swung open, Alex and Slayer found themselves in an enormous throne room. The vast chamber was dimly lit by an eerie glow, and at its far end, on a raised altar, stood a black throne etched with Marker runes.

Seated upon that throne was the Minister of Monoliths himself — wearing the form of Haruo Nijima. His face was twisted into a smug, mocking smile as he stared at Alex and Slayer, as though they were nothing more than foolish actors in a cheap stage play.

Alex and Slayer stepped silently into the room and stopped at its center, never taking their eyes off the enemy. But Alex’s gaze kept shifting — he could feel Davoth’s presence. He was here. Somewhere close. And the feeling was far too vivid to be wrong.

The Minister, without changing his expression, leaned forward slightly, continuing to look down on them.

“Are you growing tired, False Savior… Slayer?” he asked mockingly, savoring each word.

“No,” Alex and Slayer answered coldly in unison.

The Minister laughed. His laughter echoed loudly through the hall like the tolling of a death bell.

“Hahahahaha… I thought you might have enjoyed the little trials I prepared for you. You know, like a proper host entertaining unwelcome guests!”

“Well, since you’re so kind,” Alex smirked, “my friend and I decided to return the favor. Here’s our gift — for all the fun you’ve thrown our way. Catch this, Minister of Monoliths!”

Before he could react, the Minister was hit in the face with a strange object that softly slapped onto his lap. He lowered his gaze irritably — and saw a long purple thing resembling a tentacle, slightly vibrating and writhing like it was alive. It even emitted a nasty buzzing sound.

Alex, wearing a crooked grin, watched with satisfaction as black veins slowly spread across the Minister’s face. Even Slayer glanced at him briefly. Somewhere in Alex’s spiritual space, the Valkyries simultaneously smacked their foreheads. Even Brunhilda, who remained on the ground finishing the war and watched what was happening to Alex through their spiritual connection, couldn’t help but facepalm — drawing the attention of the girls nearby at that moment.

“What… is this… False Savior?” the Minister growled through clenched teeth, gripping the writhing tentacle in his hands.

“It’s a purple dildo shaped like a tentacle. I think you and your boyfriend Davoth could use… some variety in your intimate life,” Alex replied sarcastically, lighting a cigarette.

The Minister’s anger flared instantly. The tentacle vanished in his palms, turning to ash. The hall trembled. The floor cracked. The ceiling vibrated. The rage of the being seated on the throne was causing the temple itself to collapse.

As if nothing was happening, Alex exhaled a cloud of smoke, lazily watching the raging creature.

“Stop acting like a hurt teenager. Better tell me where your boyfriend Davoth is. My friend has some personal business with him,” he shouted over the growing roar.

Laughter, now different, sounded from everywhere. The voice echoed all around, as if the temple walls themselves had started to speak.

“Hahahahaha… Business with me? Slayer overestimates his importance. But I admit, it’s… amusing. He is the strongest warrior I’ve faced in many ages. His determination is impressive.”

Alex and Slayer didn’t flinch. The tension was rising. Everything was leading to the final confrontation. And no one was going to back down.

Next to the Minister of Monoliths’ throne, a crimson-red portal opened, and out of it, as if from the very depths of hell, came Davoth. His scarlet armor shimmered like burning blood. Seeing him, Alex wasn’t even surprised. He knew that Davoth and Slayer were two sides of the same coin.

Slayer had once undergone a ritual that granted him a fragment of Davoth’s power. And by killing demons along the way, he absorbed energy from their souls. After all, all demons were creations of Davoth. And with every demon that fell, Slayer grew stronger — so much so that now he stood on equal footing with the one once considered a god. Or perhaps even higher.

When Davoth entered the hall, a cold, almost tangible anger flared in Slayer’s eyes. Davoth sensed it, glanced briefly at him, and ignored it — as if it didn’t concern him.

“I see you’re not surprised to behold my true form, False Savior,” Davoth said, looking at Alex.

“There’s nothing to be surprised about,” Alex replied, lazily waving his hand. “You are him. He is you. You are the messiah of demons. He is the light of humanity. You two are opposites. When the Maykr betrayed you, they took your light and left you only darkness. A darkness you couldn’t overcome. The light went to Slayer. He ignited hatred in it — hatred for you, your demons, and the Maykr you created.”

Davoth smirked; his voice grew slightly warmer, but his gaze remained predatory.

“Interesting. You know who I am. You know what happened to me. You even know the name of my companion. And yet you haven’t lost your mind. So who are you, False Savior? Slayer radiates anger and fury. He is an avenger. And you… You seem like an empty shell, indifferent and cold-blooded. Are you really the hero the Monolith always talks about?”

“Maybe I would answer who I am. But I have no time for chatter. You see, my friend’s patience has run out. Good luck, Davoth. I hope you last longer than it took you to deliver your pompous speech here.”

Davoth raised an eyebrow — and noticed Slayer had vanished. Turning his head, he barely caught a flying fist aimed at his face. He barely raised an energy shield, but the blow was so powerful it knocked him back, smashing through wall after wall. His body flew through the entire temple and disappeared into the distance.

Slayer glanced at Alex for a second, then silently gave chase. Only Alex and the Minister of Monoliths remained in the throne room. The latter now looked at Alex not with contempt, but with grim caution.

“Before we begin, there’s something I want to do,” Alex said, putting his hand into his inventory. “Hope you don’t mind, Minister?”

“What are you planning, False Savior?” he hissed, keeping his gaze fixed.

“Simple. I know you and Davoth are rats. And as soon as things get heated, you’ll try to run. So… I’m locking you in here.”

Alex pulled out a small crystal covered with ancient, unfamiliar symbols and threw it on the floor. The moment it touched the ground, it cracked — releasing a blinding flash of light.

At the same moment, a barrier closed over Tau Volantis. Powerful, magical, absolute. The planet was now completely cut off from the outside world. No one could enter or leave without Alex’s permission. No one — except maybe Nyan-Nyan or Yog, who in any case would not interfere in Alex’s battle. For Nyan-Nyan, this was the show she had been waiting for, and Yog simply didn’t want to get involved in the affairs of Nyan-Nyan’s avatars.

For Alex, it was the perfect trap. Davoth and the Minister had invited him to Tau Volantis themselves. And now they had become prisoners of their own game.

The Minister of Monoliths slowly smiled, looking at Alex with unmistakable mockery.

“You’ve isolated my world. And you think you’ve won?” he said, slowly rising from the throne. “But it changes nothing. You think you’re saving your world? No. It’s the opposite. You came here—and signed your own death sentence. You won’t be able to return. You won’t be able to save anyone.”

He spread his arms, his voice filled with triumphant malice:

“I called you here so you could see with your own eyes everything you fought for crumble. So that despair would freeze on your face when you realize—it was all for nothing. This isn’t a story where the hero wins in the end, False Savior. This is a story where he dies, forgotten, broken, and overflowing with despair.”

The Minister of Monoliths stared intently at Alex’s face, expecting to see the emotion he always craved—despair. But on Alex’s face shone the same carefree, mocking smile. Not a trace of fear, not a shadow of doubt. Only cold confidence and a barely noticeable smirk in his narrowed eyes.

The Minister frowned deeper. He missed that sight—twisted faces, twisted souls. It was always like this: he would come disguised as a savior, grant knowledge, promise miracles… and then devour those who believed. He savored their suffering like a fine delicacy, watching them writhe in helplessness. That was how it was on Tau Volantis. That was how it was after, in all the other worlds he conquered.

But Alex remained motionless. His face, as if carved from stone, did not change. Only a lazy wisp of smoke rose from his cigarette, and the smile still played on his lips.

“You miscalculated a little, Monolith,” Alex said calmly, exhaling smoke through his teeth. “I knew you don’t play by the rules. That’s why I prepared… a little surprise for you.”

“What?…” the Minister began, but immediately stopped, his face contorted in rage and shock.

Deep within the underground laboratory of the Evil Corporation stood a special Red Marker, meant to initiate the Ascension process. And the key to this Ascension was Caleb Williams, who was supposed to activate this special Red Marker.

In the center of the spacious hangar stood the Red Marker, looking as if it were half made of Black Marker and half of Red Marker.

At that moment, Caleb walked slowly and unsteadily toward the Red Marker. His appearance was more like a skeleton draped in skin; his eye sockets looked sunken, and his gaze was unfocused, as if all remnants of life had left his body and soul.

He walked forward, not even knowing what awaited him or where it might lead. His path led straight to the Red Marker, flanked on both sides by necromorphs who bowed as if worshipping what was to come.

All these necromorphs had recently been humans, but now they were nothing more than monsters—soulless, mere empty shells, puppets in someone else’s hands. And when Caleb, on his shaky legs, finally reached the Red Marker, he stretched out his hand to touch it.

Just as Caleb’s hand was about to make contact with the Red Marker, a black cube lying nearby suddenly activated—no one had paid it any attention until that moment. At the very same second, a bright light engulfed everything, obliterating all, including the underground laboratory. Following the blinding flash came a powerful explosion that shook the ground.

After that, bright flashes of light began to erupt all over the globe wherever Red Markers were located, each followed by a loud blast that triggered earthquakes.

The Minister of Monoliths’ plan started collapsing at a rapid pace.

Alex watched his opponent’s face with a smirk. The smile on his face grew wider, revealing sharp, beastly teeth.

The Minister’s face twisted in rage. But even that expression was nothing compared to what he felt when Alex threw a purple dildo shaped like a tentacle at him. Now pure, unrestrained hatred burned in his eyes.

“Ahahahahahahaha!!!” Alex burst into manic laughter, throwing his head back. “Now everything that was in my way is gone. What do you think of that, Monoliths? THIS is my perfect victory! That’s right — I WIN!”

Alex’s laughter echoed through the throne room, bouncing off ancient walls, piercing every stone, every symbol, every statue. His laughter grew louder, distorting the space around him, shaking the very temple. Alex’s face twisted in ecstasy; his eyes gleamed with madness and triumph.

This was not just laughter. It was a sentence.

At that moment, the Monolith realized: he was not facing an ordinary mortal. Not a hero. Not even a madman. Standing before him was an opponent who could predict every step he took. One who had silently interfered with his plans, destroying them from within—and had done so so cleverly that the truth only became clear at the very last moment.

This was the end of the game, and now it was no longer he—the Monolith—who dictated the rules.

To be continued…

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep