CHAPTER 415: CH 415: WON’T DIE - PART 4

The god of justice, on his knees and disintegrating into divine dust, narrowed his glowing eyes one last time.

His voice, a sharp whisper carried by wind and mana alike, slithered into the air with venomous finality.

"You think this is the end, Kyle Armstrong?"

He rasped.

"You’ve only severed one limb of justice. But justice is not a man. It is a principle, a divine law. You and your kind... will pay. Every last one of you will answer for daring to stand against the heavens."

Before Kyle or Nigel could move, the god raised his trembling hand and slammed it onto the ground.

A shockwave of divine mana burst outward, lacing through the battlefield and beyond.

The light from his crumbling body split into countless tendrils, each one shooting into the sky and vanishing into the clouds.

His voice echoed again, louder this time, omnipresent and filled with wrath.

"I scatter myself across this world. My will, my fury, my curse—it shall live on in the monsters you sought to destroy. I am no longer one. I am many. And I will see your world burn in judgment."

With that final vow, his form exploded into golden particles, absorbed into the glowing monsters still lurking across the battlefield.

Nigel stepped back, shielding his eyes from the burst.

"He’s gone...?"

"No. He’s multiplied."

Kyle said darkly, gripping the hilt of his sword tighter.

As if in answer, the monsters around them trembled and began to glow. One by one, they erupted in light, their howls turning shrill.

Power surged through them, the god’s lingering essence settling into their bones.

Nigel’s heart raced as a sudden pressure slammed into his chest. He stumbled, grabbing his head.

"Something’s wrong. I can hear... voices."

He gasped.

"Don’t listen. It’s the god’s influence trying to root itself in your soul. Resist it."

Kyle barked.

But Nigel could barely hear him. The voices weren’t mere whispers—they were accusations, questions that burrowed into his mind like needles.

"What right do you have to live?"

"Why did you kill them?"

"Who gave you permission to defy the heavens?"

The words were muddled and overlapping, but each carried unbearable weight. Nigel fell to one knee, sweat dripping from his brow as his surroundings twisted.

When he looked up, the monsters before him were no longer beasts. They stood upright, their claws and fangs replaced by faces. Human faces. Familiar. Angry. Weeping.

They weren’t attacking—they were demanding.

"Nigel, pay for your sins!"

One screamed, its face contorted with grief.

Another one reached out, eyes wide in sorrow.

"Why didn’t you save us?"

Nigel reeled back.

"What... what is this?"

"They’re not real."

Kyle said, stepping in front of Nigel and slashing one of the glowing monsters apart. It burst into mist, revealing that it was never human at all.

But others took its place.

Kyle growled, eyes narrowing.

"It’s a final curse. The god’s turning his monsters into vessels of guilt and confusion. He wants us to hesitate."

Nigel shook his head to clear the dizziness. The voices still rang in his ears, but fainter now. He clenched his fists.

"I... I won’t stop. I know who I am."

Kyle gave him a firm nod.

"Good. Then stand. This is the last push. With the god of justice gone, these monsters can’t reproduce or draw on divine power anymore. It’s time to wipe them out—every last one."

Nigel rose shakily, gripping his sword.

"Let’s finish this."

With a sharp command, Kyle surged forward, leading the charge.

Sword flashing with his mana, he began cleaving through the monsters—each one still trying to wear a human face, still whispering lies. But Kyle’s will was iron.

"Justice is over. Now comes judgment."

He growled, slicing through another fake apparition.

Nigel followed suit, gritting his teeth against the mental barrage.

The illusions still tried to twist his vision, but he forced himself to focus on Kyle’s back—the unshakable confidence in every motion.

The certainty that no lie could survive under Kyle’s blade.

As they fought side by side, the monsters began to thin. Their glow dulled, their false voices fading. One by one, they fell—beasts no longer protected by divine arrogance.

Even as the last of the monsters stumbled forward, wearing the face of Nigel’s dead soldiers, Nigel hesitated only a second before driving his sword into its chest. It shattered, leaving nothing behind.

Kyle glanced back, bloodied but calm.

"You did well."

Nigel nodded, breath heavy.

"They’re really gone?"

Kyle looked toward the horizon, where the last spark of divine light faded into the clouds.

"No. But the god’s grip has weakened. From here on out, we erase him... piece by cursed piece."

He said quietly.

With that, the battle started once more.

Steel clashed with claw as Kyle and Nigel fought shoulder to shoulder, carving a path through the cursed monsters.

But the creatures, now wearing hollow human expressions, adapted. Their forms shimmered and broke apart like smoke—shifting, multiplying.

One moment, Kyle had Nigel by his side. The next, a wall of writhing beasts erupted between them.

"Nigel!"

Kyle called out, but his voice was drowned in the cacophony of howls and distorted cries.

"I’ll circle around!"

Nigel shouted back, barely visible through the dense swarm.

Kyle didn’t waste time. His sword flared with mana, carving through two lunging monsters with a single spinning slash.

But for every one he cut down, another replaced it, their gazes sharp and far too human.

Then came the voices—soft at first, whispering over his shoulder.

"You left us behind, Kyle."

He froze.

"No."

He muttered.

"You promised to protect us."

Another voice added, familiar. Too familiar.

He spun around.

The battlefield behind him was... different. Shadows twisted into silhouettes—men and women in torn clothes, faces warped by anguish. Some had tear-streaked cheeks. Others bled from wounds they hadn’t received today. One girl stood out—her hair tied in a red ribbon, face half-burned, eyes hollow. She pointed at him.

"Why did you abandon us?"

Kyle’s expression darkened.

"You’re not real."

"You swore you’d save us."

Another voice cried, tremulous and raw.

More figures emerged—ghosts of a past life. From a time he’d buried. From a time when he had failed.

"You knew it was a trap, but you still walked away. You lived, and we died."

Someone whispered near his ear, close enough to touch.

Kyle’s jaw tightened.

"You’re wasting your breath."

He said coldly, raising his sword again.

But the phantoms only laughed. The kind of laugh that cracked and wept, that sounded both like a sob and a scream.

"We live in you. You carry our graves inside your soul."

They said.

Kyle’s hand trembled for just a second.

"You think this will break me? You think guilt is new to me?""

He asked, voice laced with scorn.

One figure stepped closer.

"Then why do you still hear us?"

Kyle’s lips twisted into a humorless smile. He pointed his sword at them.

"Because I never forgot. But that doesn’t mean I’ll bow to illusions."

He said.

He slashed forward, tearing through the figures. They dissipated into smoke and light, their voices echoing one last time.

"You always were heartless, Kyle Armstrong."

He narrowed his eyes.

"No. Just stubborn."

Then he turned back to the battlefield, where more monsters awaited.