The endless stream of violet lightning continued to rain down upon the massive body of the Minister of Monoliths. His entire shell bristled with spears, which Alex had driven with terrifying precision into every vulnerable point. These spears, like needles of a curse, formed a closed energy circuit—each one absorbing and redistributing the destructive energy, storing it within the enemy’s body.

Each new bolt of lightning striking the golden spear atop the Minister’s form only deepened his agony. The very fabric of space trembled with the piercing screams of pain, and even the aether itself seemed to crack under the pressure of this unending torment.

The Minister of Monoliths could do nothing anymore. Not attack. Not resist. He could only scream. His voice was no longer a voice—it was the sonic embodiment of suffering, tearing at the threads of existence.

The violet lightning wasn’t just destroying him physically; it was unraveling him on the level of essence itself. With every discharge, the structure of his being cracked like old glass, ready to shatter into dust.

Alex stood silently off to the side, slowly drawing from his cigarette. He watched his enemy’s disintegration with the detached, cold calm of a hunter observing his prey dying in a trap.

Every scream was like a sweet symphony to him. Every spear—a note in the melody of destruction. He glanced at the weapons embedded in the monster’s body and gave a satisfied nod—the metal was glowing white-hot, but still holding. Alex mentally praised himself for reinforcing the spears in advance to withstand such a hellish load.

Taking another drag, Alex raised his gaze to the sky, focused, and fed a bit more mana into the magic circle. A moment later—a bolt of lightning equal in scale to the body of the Minister of Monoliths descended from above.

A flash of violet light engulfed everything, and for a moment, the world itself seemed to go blind. In the next instant—a scream that could be heard even beyond the planet.

The Minister’s body convulsed, and cracks began to spread across his shell, revealing the vile, dark flesh beneath. Black, thick blood oozed from within—foul and reeking of death itself.

Alex activated his special vision and saw that the destruction wasn’t only on the outside—deep within, the core of the Minister’s being was coming apart. Even the nucleus of his existence was fracturing under the weight of the spell.

But the monster still lived. Alex had deliberately refrained from finishing him off—he wanted the bastard to feel every second of this torment. Threatening his family was unforgivable. And for such things, death was a mercy Alex refused to grant.

He intentionally reduced the spell’s power to prolong the suffering. So that every nerve, every particle, every spark of the Minister’s “divinity” had time to burn away in the darkness of pain.

Suddenly, in the distance, an explosion rang out. Alex turned his gaze from the burning monster and looked in that direction. Focusing, he saw… the battle between Slayer and Davoth.

Although “battle” was putting it mildly. It was a slaughter, a massacre—a clash of two beasts who weren’t trading blows but tearing each other apart.

Alex wasn’t surprised: Davoth was in far worse shape. His crimson armor was cracked, his shield shattered to pieces, and only a sword—fractured and chipped—remained in his hand.

But Slayer—he was a different beast entirely. He was driven by the fire of vengeance, a scorched will, an unbreakable determination to finish what had begun long ago. He was like a force of nature, a storm that could not be stopped.

Slayer and Davoth clashed again: a mace met a blade, followed by a knee to the gut, then a brutal swing of the mace—cracking the enemy’s skull.

Alex watched for a few more seconds. His gaze lingered not on the fight, but on Slayer himself. What would become of him when all this was over? Would he find peace, like Kratos after Olympus? Or would he keep going, seeking new enemies, new wars?

Alex didn’t know. But he wanted to. Later. When this was all over.

Mentally wishing his friend victory, Alex turned his gaze back to the Minister of Monoliths. The monster was still screaming, burning, coming apart, while the lightning continued its endless dance.

A contemptuous smirk crept across Alex’s face—he had noticed the first significant shift in the very structure of the enemy’s essence.

“Pathetic, cowardly filth…” he muttered with disgust, watching as the enemy slowly but surely crumbled into dust.

What Alex saw stirred only contempt. The Minister of Monoliths had attempted to transfer the remaining part of his essence into a human body. He actually believed he could escape. Alex calmly watched as this pitiful imitation of life detached from the main body—and even in his “new” form, the Minister looked pitiful and battered, like a time-worn jester.

Alex immediately understood the plan. The Minister intended to abandon his main body and flee—hoping for a second wind. But it seemed the lightning strikes had so damaged his mind and consciousness that he had completely forgotten the most important detail: the entire planet Tau Volantis was sealed by a barrier, and only Alex could allow anyone to leave. Without that—no escape was possible.

With open interest, Alex watched the Minister of Monoliths, now in his human shell, weakly resembling his former strength, trying to sneak away, pathetically attempting to remain unnoticed. It was comical—and, in a way, familiar.

“Hmm… he really is like a hermit crab,” Alex chuckled to himself. “Sheds his shell to find a new one…”

He even found irony in it: the Minister’s true form—a giant with claws and a massive shell, like an obelisk—was now behaving exactly like a frightened arthropod, scuttling for a crack to hide in.

Meanwhile, the Minister of Monoliths, in his human guise once known as Haruo Nijima, crept away, doing his best to conceal his presence. A smug smirk flickered across his face—he was convinced he’d gone unnoticed.

“Just like before…” the thought flashed through his mind. “I escaped once. Even from Nyarlathotep… Why not repeat the trick?”

He had no idea that back then, he had simply been allowed to escape. Nyan-Nyan let him go because it was part of her play. But Alex… Alex was a completely different kind of player. He had no time for mercy or theatrics. He always struck to kill and never gave second chances.

The Minister crawled toward the ruins of his shattered temple—hoping to reach them and find shelter. He planned to lie low until Alex assumed the enemy was dead, lifted the barrier, and left the planet. Then he would emerge and take revenge.

“Ha-ha-ha… You think you’re destroying my true body?” he hissed under his breath, slinking through the rubble. “So be it… I’ll make another. And when you think you’ve won, I’ll escape. And then… I’ll take everything you love, Destruction… I’ll take everything from you.”

He was nearly at the shadow of an ancient colonnade when he suddenly froze. A wave of cold washed over him, as if the very planet rejected his presence.

“Hmm… quite the plan, I must admit,” came Alex’s voice from behind—calm, like death itself. “It’s just a shame I saw through all your pitiful tricks.”

Alex stood right behind him. There was not a shred of rage in his voice—only weary contempt.

“I’ve known what you are from the start,” Alex said, taking a step forward. “Beings like you are always the same. Cowardly. Deceitful. Pathetic. And when everything falls apart—they crawl like cockroaches looking for a crack.”

The Minister of Monoliths, now in the body of Haruo Nijima, turned around slowly, as if hoping it was just his imagination. But this was no dream. No illusion.

It was Alex.

And death had come for him.

Cold sweat broke out on the Minister of Monoliths’ cheek the moment he heard Alex’s voice behind him. Like a machine, he began to slowly turn his head—only to have a fist crash into his face with a sickening crunch.

Alex’s punch was lightning-fast and merciless—it easily broke the Minister’s nose and sent him flying.

His body, still in human form, was thrown back like a ragdoll. It bounced along the ground several times, leaving a deep trench, and only came to a halt dozens of meters away.

This time, the Minister fully felt the weight of the blow, no longer shielded by his original shell. His ears rang, his vision blurred, and his mind was dazed.

Trying to regain his bearings, he glanced at his true body. Once majestic, armored like a massive obelisk—it was now crumbling into dust. The bombardment of violet lightning had only stopped because there was nothing left to strike. His real body had been completely destroyed. Not just broken—erased from existence.

And then he understood. He had underestimated Alex.

The Minister of Monoliths had heard of the Incarnation of Destruction. They said it was still young, had only managed to kill two so far… and was now hunting the rest. Like the other avatars of Nyan-Nyan, he hadn’t taken it seriously. It seemed impossible that anyone could track them across the multiverse.

No one knew that Alex was being guided by his own father—the Creator—pointing him where to go. Even Nyan-Nyan, in whose games this was all just part of the show, was subtly helping Alex open portals to the right worlds.

But his thoughts were interrupted by a dull sound of footsteps.

The Minister raised his head. Alex was walking toward him slowly—like death itself, unhurried and inevitable.

“I admit, I underestimated you, Destruction,” the Minister of Monoliths muttered through gritted teeth, seething with rage and humiliation.

“It’s not that you underestimated me,” Alex replied coldly, “it’s your arrogance. You thought that because Nyan-Nyan created you, you were invincible. You saw yourself as powerful, untouchable. But you’re just a fake. A copy. A pathetic experiment. Beings like you—and the other avatars—are nothing more than children playing at destruction.”

He took another step closer.

“You thought no one was watching. That you could destroy worlds with impunity. But there are those who keep order. My father—the Creator—doesn’t tolerate seeing his creations ground into dust. And so now I’ve come. I am Destruction, born to erase you. But…”

“But what?” the Minister rasped, unable to hide his anger.

“But you’re too pathetic. You’re boring. Your reasons for wanting power—boring. Even Nyan-Nyan has grown tired of you. She let me destroy you because she got bored of watching your stupid games. You forgot that chaos has other forces. Yog, for example. One imbalance, and even Nyan-Nyan couldn’t have saved you. This whole ‘rebellion,’ your attempt to claim the Outer God’s throne—it’s just a childish fantasy.

And you? You’re a worm. A small, insignificant worm that’s about to be crushed.”

Alex crouched in front of him, staring into his eyes.

“You’re no better than us,” the Minister hissed. “You’re just a puppet too. A chained dog doing your master’s bidding. He sics you on anyone he sees as a threat, and you blindly obey.”

“No,” Alex said calmly. “My father gave me power. He trusted me with the right to choose who should be destroyed. I see the death and suffering brought by beings like you. The innocent lives you’ve extinguished haunt me. I chose to become his weapon.

And I will erase everything that disrupts the balance. I will reduce to dust anyone who dares violate what has been created.

The souls you’ve devoured—they’re screaming. They crave vengeance. And I will give it to them.”

Alex grabbed the Minister by the collar.

“You were never meant to be born.”

“Pathetic excuses, Destruction,” the Minister rasped, not breaking eye contact.

“Those are your last words?” Alex smirked. “Not very impressive. Well then…”

He rose to his feet.

“Clench your teeth. Because everything you’ve felt so far—was just child’s play.”

With these words, he sharply threw the Minister of Monoliths aside. The Minister flew, hitting the stone debris with a rasping thud and froze. But that was only the beginning. Alex had no intention of stopping.

From Alex’s blow, the Minister of Monoliths flew across the temple ruins, kicking up dust and rubble. He tried to crawl away, knowing that if he didn’t escape now, he wouldn’t get another chance. But barely had he started moving when a heavy foot pressed down on his back, driving him into the stone floor.

Turning his head, the Minister met the gaze of Alex’s rainbow-colored eyes. There was nothing in them but emptiness. Trying to break free, he remembered: he had separated his human body from his true form and was now in his weakest state. His power was millions of times less than before. There was no chance left.

Alex slightly raised his foot, then suddenly slammed it down on the Minister’s head. With the sound of breaking stone, the Minister’s face was crushed into the floor. Black flames engulfed Alex’s boot. He stepped again on the enemy’s head, driving it deeper and deeper.

Again and again, he pressed down, stomped, without stopping. There was no anger or triumph in his eyes—only a bottomless, terrifying void.

When Alex finally lifted his foot, he looked at the deformed body. Then slowly lowered it again—this time on the chest. The crunch of broken ribs echoed through the ruins. But that was not enough.

He still heard the screams of souls. Cries coming from the very core of Tau Volantis. Those moans of pain fueled his rage. And Alex began stomping the Minister of Monoliths with renewed force, turning his body into mush. Bones cracked and crumbled to dust.

Stepping back, he looked at the body with a cold, indifferent gaze.

“Think we’re done? No. This is just the beginning. I promised you’d feel all the pain and suffering you’ve caused others. You will die when I decide. And all the souls of the children who perished because of you—they will be avenged,” said Alex, his eyes blazing with dark fire.

Suddenly, the Minister’s body glowed with a soft green light—Alex was healing him. Not out of mercy, but so he could endure another round of pain.

He pulled him out of the pit that had formed, sat on top of him, and began raining blows down on his face. Each hit was measured—not to kill, but to make him feel.

When that wasn’t enough, Alex moved to more twisted methods. He tore limbs, stripped skin, and each time restored the body, increasing its sensitivity.

The Minister of Monoliths began to remember. He had gone through this before. The same pain, the same feeling as if consciousness itself was being turned inside out. It was back when he betrayed his creator—Nyarlathotep.

Each time Alex allowed him to regain some clarity, the Minister’s mind cleared. And in those moments, he began to understand why Nyarlathotep took an interest in the Incarnation of Destruction. He started to see Alex not just as an enemy—but something terrifyingly familiar. They were alike. Cruel. Cold. Ruthless.

“Just kill me already…” the Minister rasped after Alex healed him once again following torture.

“Stop whining. We’re not done yet. I’d enjoy torturing you for eternity, but we don’t have that kind of time. So… you’re on the fast track,” Alex replied with a smirk and grabbed the Minister by the ribs.

With a sickening crunch, he ripped the bones from the body, black blood spraying in all directions.

A new cycle of pain began. Alex intensified the feeling of suffering at the very core of the Minister’s existence. He hadn’t vanished yet only because Alex wouldn’t allow him to die.

When the next round of torture ended, the mutilated body lay in a puddle of black blood, barely breathing.

“And that’s all you’re capable of, Destruction? Pathetic…” the Minister rasped, trying to maintain his arrogance.

“I see your ego is still breathing. That’s even good. It means you’ll fear what I’ve prepared next,” said Alex, lighting a cigarette.

“Ha-ha-ha… Your tortures are nothing. Whatever you do, it no longer matters. You can’t change what has been. How beautiful were the gazes of those people when I consumed their souls… That fear, that hopelessness… The souls of children were especially exquisite. Makes my mouth water remembering their taste,” the Minister laughed loudly, disgustingly.

The Minister of Monoliths laughed like a madman who had hit the jackpot in a deadly game. But even through that laughter, he felt the cracks spreading across his essence growing wider with every moment, causing him unbearable, all-consuming pain. All his words, his laughter — were just a pathetic attempt to provoke Alex into taking the final step. To kill him. To finally end it all.

But all he saw in response was the same expression on Alex’s face. A cold, indifferent gaze piercing to the very depths of his being. There was no compassion or malice in that look—only silent judgment and complete understanding. Alex saw right through him. He knew the Minister was only playing, hoping to escape through death. A pathetic hope… of a pathetic creature.

“Hidden in the shadow, a heart of gloom. The souls of the living, eager to consume. A bringer of death, a bringer of doom… Answer my call — Reaper’s Tomb,” Alex calmly pronounced.

A magical circle began forming beneath his feet—huge, rotating, glowing with a gloomy light. At that moment, the Minister of Monoliths felt an icy coldness piercing his entire body. This cold didn’t merely touch the flesh—it penetrated the very essence, the soul.

The ground trembled. From beneath it, bony, gray hands began to crawl out. They reached upward, intertwining, forming a gigantic structure resembling a mountain or pyramid woven from bodies. Stone fingers, empty eye sockets, twisted faces—all merged into a single terrifying monument. From beneath the mass of hands emanated death, the shadow of something ancient and cold.

The hands unfolded like door panels. Behind them opened a dark passage—from it blew a wind carrying the scent of decay and an end. The Minister of Monoliths shuddered. He trembled with fear when he heard an alien, whispering voice from the darkness.

Then—hundreds of withered, gray hands flew out of the passage. They reached for him… and for Alex. They grabbed them both and pulled them into the black abyss.

Alex did not resist. He let the hands take him. But the Minister screamed. He clawed at the floor of the ruined temple in a desperate attempt not to be dragged away. But it was useless. His nails scraped against the stone, he howled, he shook… and yet—he was pulled under.

The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was hundreds of dead, unblinking eyes on the hands that engulfed his body.

He suddenly opened his eyes.

He was lying on the ground. Above him stretched the sky — no, not the sky, but a white void without beginning or end. Everything was white. Looking around, he saw dead, black trees. The ground was covered with black ash. Cold, death, and emptiness emanated from everywhere.

White above, black below. Light and darkness in one place, yet separated. A place where reality seemed to have cracked.

He slowly rose to his feet, trying to understand where he was. His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar click — the sound of a lighter.

He turned around.

By one of the black trees stood Alex, calmly smoking a cigarette. He knew the Minister would wake up. He was waiting. And he wasn’t surprised at all to see him on his feet.

The Minister was now nothing — a weak shadow of his former self. All the power he once had was destroyed, annihilated, erased. He was no longer the avatar of the Outer God. He was an empty vessel.

“Where have you dragged me, Destruction?!” he shouted, pointing at Alex.

“Shh… Quiet. You might wake the one who rules this place,” said Alex, putting a finger to his lips.

“Answer me! Where are we, Destruction?!”

“You have been brought to my domain,” came a female voice from behind Alex.

Alex wasn’t surprised. He knew this would happen. He had dragged the Minister to a place no living being wanted to go. Except perhaps a couple of idiots… one of whom was a purple potato eager to marry the one who rules this place.

He felt cold, deathly white hands wrap around his neck from behind. He still wondered why such women liked hugging him from behind? He sighed wearily and looked at the hands clasped around his neck.

He knew who it was. He himself was among those who tried to avoid her territory. But Alex’s reason was not fear of the place, but of the woman who ruled it.

He slowly turned his head and met the gaze of white, pupil-less eyes. Before him stood Death. Known to few as Lady Death.

Snow-white shoulder-length hair. Her clothing resembled the Grim Reaper’s cloak, but in her case, it was far more revealing. Under the cloak— a black bra and thin black panties. She looked both terrifying and mesmerizing at once.

“I’ve been waiting for you to finally come to my domain, Destruction…” she said, still holding Alex. “It’s such a shame that the first person you met was that disgusting woman. It’s unfair. It should have been me first. After all, you’ve already passed by me…”

Alex raised an eyebrow at Lady Death’s words. He wasn’t surprised that she knew about his death and subsequent rebirth through the Creator. That was expected. What surprised him much more was how easily and openly she called Nyan-Nyan “that disgusting woman.”

The question of what kind of relationship Lady Death and Nyan-Nyan shared immediately settled in his mind. Obviously, these two disliked each other. And probably for good reason.

But that didn’t change the fact that from the very beginning, Alex wanted to keep his distance from Lady Death. His intuition—which had never failed him—told him she was just as dangerous and “complicated” as Nyan-Nyan. Especially her gaze… hurt, almost feminine. As if he were a runaway husband who had abandoned his “deadly wife” for a new one.

The Minister of Monoliths was completely ignored at that moment. But he, too, recognized Lady Death immediately. And he instantly understood where they were. A cold terror pierced him from within, for he knew perfectly well that Lady Death despised any disturbance of the balance between life and death. And he, having consumed trillions of souls in his pursuit of power, had violated that balance in the crudest way.

He knew he did not belong here. And, driven by a primal instinct, he tried to crawl away. But no sooner had he turned than black chains erupted from beneath the scorched earth. They instantly wrapped around his body, tightened, pinned him to the ashen ground, and paralyzed him. He couldn’t even move.

“Why are you silent, Destruction?” Lady Death said, literally hanging on his body. “Aren’t you glad to see me? We were so close… at least once. And your journey was a true spectacle. Far more thrilling than any mortal-made films.”

“I don’t even know whether to be happy or upset that you were watching me,” Alex answered calmly, staring into her bottomless white eyes.

“Don’t be afraid of me, Destruction,” she whispered with feigned offense. “But, you know… your words still hurt my black heart… sniff,” she said, theatrically wiping away a nonexistent tear.

Alex’s temples began to throb. A headache grew as if nails were slowly being driven into his skull from the inside. He already started to regret using that particular spell.

To calm himself a bit, he reached to light a cigarette—a habitual ritual that could restore at least some control. But no sooner had he brought the cigarette to his lips than Lady Death deftly snatched it from his hand, put it in her own mouth, and took a drag.

Gray smoke rose upward, leaving a light and pleasant scent of tobacco and something bitter in the air. The filter bore a mark of black lipstick. Then she slowly placed the cigarette back into his mouth, smiling with obvious mockery.

“But you know, I forgive you. For not visiting me for so long…” she whispered, smiling with feigned tenderness. “After all, you didn’t come empty-handed. Such a valuable gift…”

“I guess I should thank you for your forgiveness,” Alex said dryly, not removing the cigarette from his lips.

“I knew you’d understand…” Lady Death purred, standing on tiptoes and kissing him on the cheek. “Muah.”

Alex’s eye twitched at Lady Death’s next move. He became more and more convinced—this woman would become a source of much greater headaches than even Nyan-Nyan. If he met Nyan-Nyan only when killing one of her avatars, Lady Death could appear by his side at any moment.

After all, in every world, at every point in the multiverse, the concept of death always existed.

If Nyan-Nyan is an Outer God imprisoned in Chaos and restrained by Yog, then Lady Death is bound by no limits. She can wander through worlds as she pleases. And that was what troubled Alex the most.

After the kiss on the cheek, which left a dark lipstick mark, Lady Death seemed to no longer notice him. With a cheerful smile, she approached the writhing Minister of Monoliths, chained with black shackles.

“And here he is… the avatar of that disgusting woman. Heh-heh-heh… I must admit, I’m very much looking forward to playing with you. Both for the headache you gave me and for what you did. Believe me, you’ll even enjoy it,” she said, stepping on the Minister’s face with her heel.

“I didn’t think you took your job so seriously,” Alex smirked, stepping closer.

“Oh, you embarrass me… You’re so cute, Destruction. If it weren’t for that pathetic cockroach, I’d have you right here and now,” Lady Death said playfully, pressing her hands to her cheeks, pretending to be shy.

“Ugh… Maybe some other time. But for now, I have to go. It was nice to meet you… relatively speaking. I still need to free the souls that bastard didn’t manage to digest, ask my father for payment, and… finally go on vacation. I’m tired,” Alex said dryly.

“Leaving already? What a shame… I hoped you’d stay with me a little longer. Well, whatever. In any case, I can always come to you whenever I want. Unlike that… unpleasant woman,” Lady Death said, touching her chin with a finger as if pondering.

Alex looked at her suspiciously. This was no mere game. He felt it deep in his being: something was off here. And he didn’t even know that the kiss left on his cheek was not a gesture of flirtation, but a mark.

The black lipstick glowed briefly with a faint light and then vanished. But the trace remained—invisible, magical, binding them.

Lady Death continued to pretend as if nothing had happened. Like an innocent girl radiating charm and lies. And Alex felt more strongly the approach of something big… and inevitable.

He didn’t want to think about it now. His thoughts were already far away—in the upcoming vacation with his family, in the peace he hadn’t felt for so long. The last thing he needed now was another crazy woman in his life.

With a light sigh, he summoned Yamato, cut through space, and opened a portal back to Tau Volantis.

Alex walked backward toward the portal, never taking his narrowed gaze off Lady Death, who kept up her act of innocence. Almost hidden behind the veil of the magical rift, he saw her blow him a kiss.

“…Damn it,” he muttered under his breath and stepped into the portal.

It closed instantly.

Lady Death, now without any more pretense, turned to the Minister of Monoliths with a wide, almost painful smile.

He had just endured all the torments Alex had inflicted on him. But now… now something far worse awaited him.

And its name was Lady Death.

To be continued…

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep