Alex continued to laugh—like a true mad villain who had just destroyed his enemy’s carefully constructed plans. His laughter was so powerful that the very space around him began to crack, and the walls of the temple trembled with a sinister screech, as if reality itself was collapsing.

Then, abruptly cutting off the laughter, Alex lowered his head, his rainbow-colored eyes locking onto the human guise of the Minister of Monoliths, seated on a black throne inscribed with Marker script. He didn’t hide his satisfaction—he was enjoying the sight of the Monolith’s face twisting in rage and disbelief. His grand, centuries-old game had crumbled to dust in mere minutes. Everything he had worked toward—destroyed in a single instant.

The throne room was cloaked in shadow, and only the Monolith’s eyes gleamed within it—eyes filled with hatred and the thirst for vengeance.

“This changes nothing,” he growled. “Even if you’ve destroyed my plans… once you die, I’ll tear your soul from your body and force you to watch as everyone you ever loved suffers at my hands. One by one, they will fall, until only you remain. Alone. Forever.”

“Mistake number one, Monolith,” Alex smirked. “To do that… you’d have to leave Tau Volantis. And how can a dead man go anywhere?”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of,” the Minister hissed, his voice filled with barely restrained fury.

Alex just smirked. He knew exactly who he was dealing with—and had no intention of losing the initiative. He lived by a simple rule: if the fight’s started, strike first. And if you’re not sure if it’s started? Strike anyway. That’s exactly what he did.

He stepped forward—and vanished.

In the next instant, he reappeared directly in front of the throne. The first thing the Minister saw was the sole of a boot flying at his face.

With a loud crack, Alex’s foot smashed into the Monolith’s nose, whipping his head back and slamming it against the throne’s stone back with a crunch. Dazed and stunned, the Minister barely had time to react before Alex seized him by the hair and began slamming his skull into the stone again and again. Each strike echoed through the chamber, thunderous and brutal, while cracks spread across the throne.

After dozens of blows, Alex abruptly let go and delivered a devastating uppercut. The Minister’s head snapped back, shattering the throne’s backrest into dust. His body slumped, his head dangling limp—like an executioner’s victim awaiting the blade.

Alex raised his hand, ready to take the head clean off—but in that moment, the Minister’s eyes flew open, and he caught Alex’s arm in a crushing grip.

“That hurt… even if it’s only a shell,” he growled through clenched teeth.

“It’s about to hurt more. Clench your teeth, bastard,” Alex snarled, raising his other fist.

The punch that followed shattered the air itself along its path. When it struck the Minister’s face, the explosion shook the entire hall, and the throne burst into fragments. The Minister’s head was driven into the altar floor, his torso sticking out awkwardly.

Not giving him a moment to recover, Alex raised his foot and stomped down on the Minister’s chest. Another explosion rang out, and the altar collapsed completely. Cracks webbed across the temple walls. Jumping back, Alex pulled out a fresh cigarette, lit it, and watched the dust begin to settle in the air.

From within the gray cloud came the dull sound of footsteps. Soon, a figure emerged into the light—the Minister of Monoliths, still in his human form. His hair was disheveled, boot prints marked his once-white shirt, and his face radiated barely-contained irritation.

“Seems I overestimated you, False Savior. If that’s all you’ve got, this world will be your grave,” he said with icy calm.

“I hit you a few times, and you’re already back to spouting your pompous monologues. Looks like the stone did more than just crack your skull… You got dumber, Minister,” Alex replied mockingly, exhaling smoke.

“It’s time to show you your place in this world,” the Monolith hissed, stepping forward slowly.

Alex smirked and slowly raised his hand, making a taunting gesture.”Come on. Step closer. I’m waiting.”

The Minister of Monoliths’ eyes grew colder—like ice before a storm. In the next moment, the space behind him cracked like glass, and from the fractures seeped thick, inky darkness. Cries echoed from within—cries of pain, suffering, and something… ancient.

The first thing to emerge from the void was a hideously twisted hand—covered in slime and writhing tendrils. Alex raised an eyebrow as he watched the creature crawl out of the rift. It was so grotesque that even he hesitated for a second—wondering if this was some new strain of shoggoth.

But no. Looking closer, he realized it was something else. Something older. More distorted. More… wrong. The longer Alex stared, the more his mind dredged up ancient images, frescoes, and texts describing beings like this.

And then it hit him. A grin spread across his face. He knew exactly where the creature came from. He understood what the Minister had dragged in with him.

The Minister noticed the grin and twisted in fury. No matter how hard he tried to break Alex—the bastard kept smiling. And that infuriated him.

“Your smile won’t last much longer, False Savior,” the Monolith growled. “I warned you. You have no idea what awaits you.”

“Maybe not,” Alex replied, still wearing his easy smile. “But there’s one thing I do know.”

“And what would that be?” the Minister sneered. “Have you finally come to terms with your inevitable demise?”

“You’re just… gross.” Alex grimaced. “Stop acting like a third-rate villain. Although, to be fair, that’s exactly what you are. Especially after the brilliant idea to steal the Black Goat’s offspring… right from her forest. Bold move. I give you five out of five on the bravery scale.”

He gave the Minister a sarcastic thumbs up.

“You know nothing, worm!” the Minister roared. “They all sleep, and this is our age—to take their place! As mortals used to say in the worlds I’ve destroyed, the old must give way to the new!”

“Wow… just wow,” Alex chuckled and gave a slow, theatrical clap. “I don’t know if Nyan-Nyan gave you this much arrogance… but you, you pathetic knockoff, definitely overestimate yourself. Your ambitions are impressive, sure—right up there with the last two morons I dealt with.”

“Who did you call a knockoff?!” the Monolith bellowed, the ground quaking beneath their feet. “I am a great deity! And you—are dust! A zero! Nothing!”

A powerful quake shook the hall. The ceiling groaned, and new cracks spread across the walls.

The Minister of Monoliths still remembered the moment of his “birth.” He remembered how, alongside others like him, he rose up against his creator—the original Nyarlathotep. They had wanted freedom. They had wanted power. But it had all fallen apart in a single moment. Their pitiful rebellion had been crushed—as it should be, for those foolish enough to challenge true Chaos. The humiliation he’d felt then still burned deep inside him. But even so, he had never let go of his dream. He no longer wanted to be someone’s puppet.

What he never realized… was that he had always been just that. A puppet in someone else’s play. A marionette allowed to believe in its own significance. All his ambitions—nothing more than pitiful amusement for the one he so desperately sought to surpass.

“I’m talking about you,” Alex said calmly, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re a knockoff. First, there was that freak who thought he was Nyarlathotep. Then came the Mechanical Man. And now you. Escaped shadows playing gods. And every single one of you—just actors in Nyan-Nyan’s theater.”

Alex’s eyes turned cold.

“You like to believe you can take her place. But you understand nothing. Nyan-Nyan was the second being born of Chaos, right after the Sultan. Even if you were a thousand times stronger, you wouldn’t have a chance. To her, you’re a cockroach. And the moment she gets bored watching you crawl… she’ll crush you. Just like she’ll crush anyone who dares to claim her throne.”

Alex looked at him with genuine pity—like someone watching a child reaching toward fire, not understanding that it would burn.

Suddenly, the air trembled, and a melodic, feminine laughter echoed across the space. It was light, almost playful, but within it lay an ancient, all-consuming power. The laughter reverberated through every crack in reality, through every particle of existence.

It was everywhere.

The woman’s laughter, echoing through the temple, was maddeningly beautiful—literally. It was like music woven from the delicate sounds of eternity, and at the same time a merciless call, capable of shattering the mind of any being. Had anyone else heard it—god or mortal—their mind would’ve unraveled in an instant, their very existence crumbling into dust, consumed by madness.

But for the Minister of Monoliths, this laughter wasn’t madness—it was fear. True, ancient, inescapable fear. It rose from the depths of his being like venom, awakening memories he had tried to erase. Memories of when he, alongside other avatars, tried to rebel against their creator—the true Nyarlathotep.

Their rebellion… had been brief. And what followed could only be described as an unending nightmare. A cycle of pain, torment, destruction, and absolute humiliation. The Minister of Monoliths still remembered being torn apart, reassembled, and broken again—over and over. He had convinced himself that escaping had freed him from the one he once betrayed. Lied to himself that he no longer feared.

But now… this laughter… he felt her presence again.

“Now you’re afraid. But it’s too late for fear,” Alex said calmly, watching the Minister’s body begin to tremble against his will. “Just like I said—you’re nothing but an actor in someone else’s play.”

“W-who are you..?” the Minister choked out, voice quivering with terror, desperately clinging to the edge of self-control.

“I AM THE DEMON KING! I AM VOLDIGOAD! I AM DESTRUCTION!” Alex roared, jabbing his finger into his chest with each word. His voice echoed through the temple like it was shaking the very fabric of space.

“Y-y-you…” the Minister’s trembling finger pointed at Alex.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Alex tilted his head. “Looks like Narexo told you I was hunting your kind. But it’s too late now. You’re trapped here with me, and there’s nowhere left to run.”

“Kill him! Kill Destruction! NOW!” the Minister shrieked, barking the command at his monstrous pet.

The abomination behind him—a grotesque, shape-stealing mass of slime and agony—lunged forward like a rabid beast. It charged on four limbs, ripping into the temple floor with clawed hands as it barreled toward Alex.

At the same time, the Minister, realizing the fight was lost, began to back away, hoping to find some escape route. But before he could take even a step, his own creature whistled past him—and slammed into the wall with a thunderous crash. A sword protruded from its chest.

“Pfft… Worthless trash,” the Minister growled, glaring at the mangled body. “What else could I expect from the spawn of that wretched thing. Just as pathetic as she is.”

“How rude,” Alex said with mock surprise. “Aren’t you afraid Shub-Niggurath might hear you and come for your soul? Then again… she’s sleeping. Maybe you’re lucky. Or maybe not.”His tone turned cold, and the smile vanished from his face.

“Shut up, Destruction! Don’t you dare lecture me! You think I fear you?!” the Minister hissed through clenched teeth. “If I consume you, I will surpass that filthy woman! I will become the strongest!”

“Oh, someone’s angry. Where have I heard that before…” Alex tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Ah right, your little brother said the exact same thing before I tore off all his limbs. He shined so brightly when he died. Like the last star in the night.”

Alex clenched his fists, and his eyes flared with fury.

“And because of that bastard… I lost my peaceful life.”

“I’ll fucking rip out all your insides, you fucking bastard…” he growled through his teeth, hatred burning on his face once more.

A massive surge of energy burst from Alex’s body, shaking the temple and the very fabric of space around it. He wasn’t planning to talk anymore. He hadn’t come here to chat—he came to fight.

Power surged through his limbs. The Beowulf gauntlets materialized around his arms and legs. A metallic clang echoed as he cracked his knuckles together—and in the very next instant, Alex vanished from his spot.

He reappeared right in front of the Minister of Monoliths, driving a powerful uppercut into his chest, lifting the enemy off the ground. While the Minister’s body was still airborne, Alex grabbed his leg, spun him around several times, and hurled him skyward like a cannonball.

With a thunderous crack, the Minister smashed through the temple ceiling and got stuck in it. But before he could move, another earth-shattering blow from Alex slammed into his chest again, breaking through the roof and sending him even higher into the sky.

Kicking off the air itself, Alex soared after him. The space around them groaned and cracked. The temple, unable to withstand the strain, began collapsing completely.

With a single mighty leap, Alex caught up to the Minister of Monoliths—who now looked like an unwilling participant in the Voldigoad Aerospace space program. Before the Minister could react, Alex landed another devastating blow to his chest. This time, he didn’t just launch the Minister further—the space behind him cracked, as if reality itself had fractured under the force. A stream of thick, black blood erupted from the Minister’s mouth.

But the blow wasn’t the end.

It awakened something ancient within the creature—an instinct to survive, a primal desperation to fight back, not to end up like the two predecessors who fell to Alex’s hand.

Suddenly, a black tentacle burst from the Minister’s back, lashing toward Alex’s chest. At the last second, Alex twisted his torso, narrowly dodging the strike as it whooshed past. But it quickly coiled back, now aiming for his back.

Seeing it coming, the Minister allowed himself a smug, triumphant smile. The tentacle pierced through Alex’s back with a sickening crunch, emerging from his chest. The Minister’s grin widened in victory—only for his expression to freeze a second later.

The tentacle didn’t stop.

It kept going—straight into his own chest.

Alex… vanished. Dissolved like a mirage.

“Didn’t think you were that into self-harm,” Alex’s mocking voice echoed from the Minister’s left. “But hey, I’m not judging. Everyone finds joy in their own way. Or maybe you’re a fan of the good old ‘beat yourself up so others won’t have to’ philosophy?”

The Minister snapped his head toward the voice—only to get slammed in the face by a strange purple object. He spun through the air uncontrollably. As he managed to stabilize himself, his eyes locked onto Alex’s hand… and the object he’d been struck with.

In his eyes, a flame of sheer humiliation ignited. For the second time now, he had been slapped in the face by a purple… dildo shaped like a sword.

Alex burst into laughter and tossed the item aside, clearly embarrassed himself that it was still in his inventory. It had been created as a joke long ago under the influence of a video game from his previous life, and now it felt especially out of place.

“I’m sick of your jokes, Destruction!” the Minister roared. “I won’t be holding back anymore!”

“Oh? Finally deciding to return to your true form?” Alex replied lazily, pointing toward the massive figure looming in the distance. “I mean, I could say you dragged this out way too long… But hey, who am I to stop you from enjoying your own beating?”

“You only damaged the vessel I wore among mortals!” the Minister shouted, filled with arrogance. “My true body… is far more powerful than you could possibly comprehend!”

Alex simply raised an eyebrow.

“And who told you I was only hitting the vessel?”

At that moment, the air was sliced by the sound of cracking. The Minister sharply turned around—and saw on the summit of his true body, right near the central eye… a crack. At first, it seemed insignificant. But its presence left no doubt.

Every blow Alex dealt to the “human” body transferred to the true form. Slowly but inevitably.

The Minister’s expression froze into a mask of shock. He couldn’t believe it. He refused to believe it.

Alex smirked, then turned his fist and struck the space beside him with force. Like fragile glass, it was covered in a network of cracks—and at that instant, the crack on the Minister’s body began to crawl downward.

“How dare you!!” the Minister roared, fixing his gaze on Alex.

“Why not? You were so proud of your body… but it turned out to be fragile. Hmm… maybe that’s because you’re molting? Like crabs. Only instead of chitin, you have paper.”

“You’ll pay for this, Destruction!” the Minister screamed, pointing a finger.

Alex rolled his eyes. Behind him, a tiny portal opened—a spear tip appeared from it. The next second, it shot forward at terrifying speed and plunged straight into the Minister’s chest.

The spear dragged him backward—and with a dull thud, pinned him to the surface of his own true body. The Minister groaned, struggling with all his might to pull the weapon out, but the spear held him firmly. And then… everything fell silent.

“Hahaha… Thank you for delivering me to the body, Destruction,” the Minister said through a chuckle. “As a token of gratitude… I will torture everyone you care about. Until their screams bore me.”

His human shell began to merge with the true form, like two parts of one nightmare reuniting.

Alex irritably rolled his eyes. All villains say the same thing: threats to family, promises of torture, pompous speeches. But none live long after Alex gets serious. This one won’t be any different.

The Minister of Monoliths’ words briefly snuffed out the light in Alex’s eyes—his pupils swallowed by endless darkness. But he quickly pulled himself together. Why get angry at another idiot when you can simply give them the most painful death?

The Minister’s human shell fused with his true form, and at that moment a powerful earthquake shook the entire planet Tau Volantis. A mournful, heart-wrenching howl followed, as if the planet itself was in pain.

Alex lowered his gaze—through layers of rock, right into the core, where the souls of the consumed beings writhed. This place wasn’t just the heart of the planet—it was the stomach of a monster, where fates boiled and rotted. Souls screamed. Moaned. Begged for mercy. But Alex looked away—he had a more urgent task.

The Minister’s body trembled, like waking from a millennia-long sleep. Then, with a crunch and a click, his trefoil-shaped orange eye opened. The pupil darted wildly, as if the creature’s mind was readjusting to its enormous form. But soon it froze—and focused directly on Alex.

Emotions swirled in that eye: hatred, malice, contempt, arrogance.

“Now you won’t be able to defeat me, Destruction,” the Minister’s voice echoed from all directions, deep and heavy, as if the world itself was speaking to Alex.

“You know, you’re not the first to say that. Two others before you thought they were invincible… And now they don’t exist at all. You returning to your true body changes nothing. You just got bigger, which makes you an easier target. I’m sure among mortals you’ve heard the phrase: ‘The bigger the target, the easier it is to hit.'”

Alex covered his mouth with his palm, barely holding back a laugh.

“And now, my dear giant crab… I definitely won’t miss.”

The Minister’s eye flared, and in the next second, a blazing beam burst forth like a gigantic laser, shooting rapidly toward Alex.

Alex rolled his eyes again.

“Seriously? A laser from the eye? You’re definitely an ancient god, not a final boss from some cheap RPG.”

When the beam nearly reached him, Alex raised his hand—and blocked the attack. The energy split in two, passing to the sides, plowing the ground and erasing everything in its path. Where the beam passed, nothing remained—only smooth, perfectly burned scars.

When the attack ended, Alex lowered his hand and whistled softly in mild surprise.

“I’ll admit, that was strong. But, alas… it didn’t even warm my hand. You could’ve tried harder if you’re going to shoot light from your eye.”

“Proud that you survived the first strike? Your arrogance will be your doom, Destruction,” came the guttural voice.

“Pathetic mutt,” Alex said, rolling his eyes once more.

He didn’t wait for the next attack. Drawing a silver spear from his inventory, Alex charged forward, running straight through the warped space.

Tentacles rushed toward him from cracks in all directions. Spinning the spear, Alex sliced everything approaching and, pushing off the last tentacle, used it as a springboard—soaring upward. Then he thrust the silver spear into the Minister’s shell.

The metal pierced the flesh with a distinct crunch, and Alex immediately jumped back, dodging another tentacle aimed at his back.

At a safe distance, he pulled out another spear. But just as he prepared to advance, his gaze caught a change in the monster’s eye.

The eye flared—and Alex vanished from the spot in an instant.

Where he had stood, space itself erased, leaving a black vortex sucking in reality like a vacuum cleaner of the universe.

“Whoa. Didn’t think you were capable of that. I admit, you impressed me,” said Alex, raising his hand toward the vortex. “But it’s still not enough.”

Light streamed from his palm, and Alex slowly closed his fingers, as if squeezing the very essence of that abyss.

When Alex’s palm shut, the black vortex collapsed as if it had never existed, and space returned to normal.

Wasting no time, Alex covered the distance in a powerful dash and plunged his spear again into the Minister of Monoliths’ shell. And again—dodging a whipping tentacle aimed at his back, jumping back, drawing another spear.

He repeated it again and again. Like a tattoo artist of pain, Alex turned the enemy’s body into a cushion for needles. The Minister’s shell now looked like a battlefield strewn with protruding spears—each one a strike, a mockery, a challenge.

But even so, the monster laughed.

“Hahahaha! Pathetic! These are just toys. You couldn’t even tickle me, Destruction!” mocked the Minister of Monoliths, his voice thundering like a rockfall in a tomb.

Alex just rolled his eyes and, without a word, pulled out the golden spear.

Slowly spinning it in his hand, he squinted, studying the apex of the enemy’s body—that very pointed segment of the shell. Smirking, Alex vanished and appeared in the sky, right above the monster’s head, and forcefully drove the golden spear into that vulnerable spot.

The Minister of Monoliths laughed even louder.

“Hahahaha! I told you! This is all dust! Even this spear won’t hurt me!”

Alex smirked and gave a thumbs-up.

“That’s where you’re foolish. I wasn’t trying to harm you with the spears. I was just placing… conductors. Look up.”

Straining his huge eye, the Minister of Monoliths slowly raised his gaze.

In the sky, ten magical circles formed one after another. They spun, sparkled, and gradually merged into one huge circle. Purple lightning began to run along its edges, emanating not just destruction, but concentrated malice of reality itself.

“Ravia Gig Gaverizd,” Alex said, pointing downward. “Receive the blessing.”

Purple lightning poured from the sky. The first struck precisely the golden spear. The metal flared, and the entire structure sparkled. Lightning jumped across the Minister’s body, leaping from one spear to another, creating a closed energy circuit.

They didn’t dissipate. They accumulated, growing stronger with each circle, each new discharge, every second.

“AaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAA!!!” screamed the Minister of Monoliths, his voice breaking into an inhuman howl.

It was a pain beyond words. It tore him apart from within, breaking, destroying, but not killing him—because the circuit wouldn’t let the lightning go. They burned, boiled, tore him apart, yet continued their dance of destruction, to the music of thunder and light.

Alex calmly lit a cigarette, watching his enemy melt from the inside. The screams of pain sounded like a beautiful symphony—the soundtrack of his victory.

A faint, almost weary smile touched his lips.

“So, how do you like your toys now?”

To be continued…

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep