CHAPTER 48: A’S END GAME 2

From what appeared to be a flashing red light of flame when looked at from above the sky, Amaterasu moved with directed precision at top speed, flames trailing her steps as Elara gave her detailed direction at every turn.

"To your right at the next oak tree!" Elara exclaimed sharply, her third eye wide open as both she and Natasha were cradled in Amaterasu’s arms.

Amaterasu took the turn exactly where Elara had described.

"Stop!" Elara snapped, and Amaterasu forced a halt as though slamming the brakes of a reckless driver.

"She’s not here," Amaterasu murmured as she studied their environment—an expanse of tall, ancient trees planted in the middle of nowhere.

"We’ll take it from here," Elara muttered, gazing ahead of them as though she saw far more than they did. "We can’t risk losing our element of surprise."

Amaterasu’s eyes widened, perplexed. She knew she had other places to be, and if it came down to numbers, these two were the least of her worries. But still...

"You two have each other’s backs," she said seriously, before softening into a playful smirk. "You could always lose, and then I’d have Elder Allen more to myself." Her wicked giggle echoed faintly.

"Don’t get your hopes high," Natasha purred, folding her arms dramatically. "We will be your forever burdens."

"Supposing we don’t make it..." Elara whispered, her gaze heavy and fixed ahead as if she could already see more than either of them. "Tell my father I loved him."

Silence fell for a moment, all eyes fixed on Elara. Then with final resolve, she smirked. "Let’s go, Natasha."

Her steps were deliberate, as though she walked the road to her home—like she knew every detail of her surroundings.

"Hey, wait up," Natasha smirked as she rushed up behind her. "And remember, I’m immortal, so speak for yourself."

But inside, she thought: Although, I can’t let anything happen to her.

Following behind Elara, their steps slowly became subtle as they approached a corner thick with dense trees, while Amaterasu blazed her way back to the walls.

"There she is," Elara whispered, peering from the corner.

Behind the dense barrier of trees lay a circular space of cropped grass. At its center, Nora—the green-skinned necromancer—danced in strange patterns as though performing a sacred ritual, her body twisting and stretching expertly under the dim glow of the moon.

"Just as planned," Natasha whispered, peering at Nora as well.

Elara nodded firmly. "Just as planned."

---

Elsewhere, within the walls.

It was chaos.

"Ahhh!" Kelion roared in frustration, stomping his feet so hard the earth caved beneath him. Goblins charged relentlessly toward the gate of the werewolf territory, where Kelion stood his ground.

"These lives are in my custody!" he shouted, manipulating the earth to rise and engulf them like ice climbing their bodies. But within seconds, the goblins burst out of it like bombs, scattering dirt and rubble.

It was a constant cycle of frustration. Even when he shifted the earth beneath their feet to drag them backward, they kept coming. Endless.

And the worst part—"I can’t even inflict a wound, let alone crush them flat!" Kelion bellowed.

One goblin got so close it leapt at him, claws extended, eyes gleaming with darkness, fangs ready to devour.

But this time, something shifted. It was as though all his restraint snapped. His limbs moved not with thought but with pure, boiling frustration.

His fist flew.

Boom!

The blow landed in the goblin’s stomach, and its organs and blood blasted out from behind. The sheer impact hurled the body far back into the chaos.

More goblins charged, but each one fell under the same fate—Kelion’s frustrated fists, cracking bones and spilling blood with every strike.

His eyes narrowed, his breath harsh and ragged, as he stood watching the mess of bloodied goblins strewn across the ground. But when he thought it was all over, what remained began to stir again—limbs, tissues, even blood cells crawling toward him like demonic pledges.

Eyeballs rolled, lungs leapt, fingers hopped, goblin teeth clattered, and even broken flesh writhed forward, all converging on Kelion.

"No. No. No!" Kelion rasped in terror, shielding his body with earth like a thick cloth, piling more and more as the scattered plague-like parts climbed over and dug into the shield.

It was sheer horror as the stone began breaking apart like shattered ice.

---

Elsewhere.

ZAP!

Allen struck lightning at Hadas, who stood at the top of the walls, overseeing the chaos below—a sight that seemed beautiful to him. He barely acknowledged his environment.

With a simple sidestep, Hadas evaded the red lightning that blasted from Allen’s fingertips.

"You aren’t tired of failing, right?" Allen barked, standing at the base of the wall, his gaze fixed on the dark-cloaked god. Shadows swirled around Hadas like black fire. If one looked with spiritual eyes—something only Elara could do—the air was filled with red aura being absorbed into his very body. Fear.

"Failing?" Hadas scoffed, his voice a deep growl. He began to levitate, his dark clothes swirling in the wind like a flag. "You baffle me, young man. You must be blind to the state of these walls. The goblins—they are undying. And I still have... oh, let me save that for later. But know this—you cannot match me for more than thirty seconds. And even then, that time will be all I need to slowly devour you and draw out the fear you’re hiding inside."

Allen didn’t flinch. His gaze grew softer, but sharper—calculating. He already knew about the goblins, but Hadas’s backup plan was still a mystery.

"I’m glad you even came, Hadas. We still have unsettled scores."

Allen roared as he charged in with lightning speed—not out of fury, but with perfect calculation. No fear, no restraint, not even a flicker of hesitation.

Hadas’s smile grew wider than a clown’s. Not moving, but in a flash of divine will, he appeared just inches before Allen.

"Wha—" Allen rasped, feeling the crushing pressure of Hadas’s dark aura. It loomed like a storm, visible even in the air itself. His limbs screamed in protest, his mind grasping for options.

But was it too late—or could his next step still be adjusted?

’Two days more of this food, and Zues will crumble,’ Hadas thought, as he raised his arm.