Lynch's fingers had already pierced through the serpent's robe, penetrating the soft armor hidden beneath. A layer of natural scales covered the surface of the serpent's skin, sturdier even than the armor of an ancient giant dragon. Yet, before the silver-white magic flames, they melted away like candles placed next to the sun, vanishing without a trace in an instant.

The scent of burning had not yet dissipated, nor had the sizzling sound of snake oil being roasted emerged, when Lynch's five fingers had already grasped the serpent's heart. Regardless of the true form of the serpent's body, Lynch was confident that he could spread the power of the magic origin through the heart he now held, dispersing it to every corner of its flesh, until the hidden soul was found and evaporated from the world.

If only his fingers could tighten around that heart, it would all be over. Lynch could even feel the pulse of the serpent's blood, likely the last heartbeat of this ambitious creature.

A trickle of blood descended from the corner of the serpent's mouth, painting his pallid and strained smile. This wasn't inflicted by Lynch; the wound in his chest hadn't yet had time to spread pain throughout his body. The serpent abandoned all defensive measures; this didn't mean he did nothing. Part of his divine power, or rather some powers gathered from ancient dead gods, were torn out and forcibly stuffed into the last two secret scrolls hidden in his left sleeve.

As Lynch's hand pressed against his chest, the serpent laid his left hand on Lynch. In that instant, the two opponents engaged in a contest of speed. The serpent felt as though a gigantic fireball had been stuffed into his chest, or perhaps a volcano had erupted there, with searing magma and flames flowing everywhere. He wanted to scream in agony, but that pale and strained smile remained on his face.

It was only then that the roar caused by Lynch's all-out attack reverberated through the air, resembling a continuous roll of thunder that made Heaven Mountain tremble uncontrollably. The gods residing there were startled, wanting to focus their gaze on this area in unison. But in the next moment, they all chose to look away. No matter what was happening here, the power pervading the air couldn't deceive; someone powerful enough to threaten their survival had emerged, and an inadvertent glance could provoke this bearer of power, bringing death.

Only the serpent knew what had transpired. His naturally trained quick hands saved his life a step ahead of Lynch. But the price was extraordinary; now weakened beyond a god, he lacked even the strength to heal his wounds. If not for the continued presence of the Great Mage's magic power's oscillation in the air, no ambitious being of the multiverse would pass up the chance to claim this fallen prey amid the ruins.

The serpent forced air into his lungs, but the gaping hole in his chest rendered the effort inefficient. Blood, carrying the warmth of a god, pulsed rhythmically out of the wound, staining the ground. Several broken ribs protruded, making the scene even more gruesome. Yet a smile lingered upon the serpent's face, experiencing relief for the first time. He realized that whatever happened between Lynch and the Magic God, it would take centuries to resolve. Conversely, in just a while, he would gather healing power, and within a few days, he would be restored. By then, the Snake-man armies would rampage with fearless might over Anriel's lands. Neither the Five Realms Fortress nor the All-Knowing Tower would be able to resist.

Because he had always firmly believed that Lynch would never submit to the Magic God.

Unlike him, reveling in the relaxation from narrowly escaping death, Lynch was filled with regret. The serpent's face was close at hand, and his always-concealed strength was about to burst forth in a tactical plan, but it ultimately failed at the last moment. The serpent slipped through his fingers, leaving him only with a handful of foul-smelling blood.

If it were anyone else, they might vent their rage by shouting or destructively lashing out at their surroundings, transferring their frustration onto innocent flora and stone. But Lynch immediately cast aside the now-irretrievable mistake, refocusing his attention on the present moment and environment.