CHAPTER 276: CHAPTER 277: YOU WERE STRONG

Now the real battle starts...

Orcus bellowed, and the very ground beneath Titus trembled like a drum beaten by an angry god.

Atlas didn’t smile this time. He couldn’t. Not with the sight before him—the once colossal giant compressed into a smaller, human-sized frame, his body writhing with shadows that weren’t his own.

Countless eyes blinked open in his chest, each glistening wet with unnatural hunger, while mouths whispered from his arms and legs like broken instruments trying to find harmony. He was not just Orcus anymore—he was a hymn of darkness made flesh.

A stray thought flickered in Atlas’s mind, sharp and tempting as a blade: Could I do that with Veil? Could I fuse with my shadow the same way? But he smothered it. That was not the time.

’Enhance strength.’

Step.

He moved forward, steady, golden light sliding over his skin like molten armor.

Step.

Orcus mirrored him, and though he was smaller now, each footfall quaked the earth as if the weight of his former giant body had never left. Dust lifted, pebbles cracked. His presence was a mountain given legs.

Atlas clenched his fist, every fiber in his arm iron-tensed. The air around them warped, humming with energy.

Then they lunged.

Both men launched themselves skyward, bodies cutting through the heavy air. Like some twisted gentleman’s agreement, their fists swung not to miss, but to meet.

Doom.

The impact never landed flesh to flesh. Instead, their auras collided—gold against abyss, mana ripping into mana. The world itself shuddered, sound vanishing for a breath before roaring back in a thunderclap.

Atlas grunted, teeth bared as the earth cracked beneath his boots. His muscles screamed with strain, veins lighting gold as if molten rivers ran through him.

"...such... power..." he forced out, each word dragged from a throat struggling against pressure that felt like an ocean pressing down on a single flame.

And then—

"...this is the true me..." Orcus’s voice spilled from the mouths in his chest, more echo than speech, as though every shadow carried his intent.

Atlas’s jaw tightened. His mind raced. If this is only the true him... what else has he hidden? How much deeper is the abyss I’ve chosen to fight?

"High Enhance strength,"

Atlas’s muscles bulged in response. Until now, he had been holding back, relying on physical prowess, instincts, and just enough mana to edge out victories. But here—here he felt the weight of something different. Orcus was not a rival to spar with. He was inevitability given form.

Atlas’s body roared awake. Veins writhed like serpents beneath his skin, golden light flaring until it hurt to look at him. His fist pushed forward. The ground cratered, cracks spider-webbing outward.

But Orcus... only shifted one foot. Just one step forward.

The difference was devastating.

Atlas’s breath hitched. He’s not a man anymore. He’s a mountain crammed into a human frame. He’s a storm forced into a single breath. This—this is the aura I felt the first time I saw him. Not bluster. Not intimidation. Raw, unfiltered power.

"...no more..." Orcus whispered. His words were grave markers.

"Your tyranny ends here, Atlas."

The push came then. A surge like ten mountains slamming downward at once. Atlas’s knees buckled, his back arched, his body folding under the unbearable pressure.

He was holding back. The realization hit him colder than any blade. Even now... he was holding back.

"...do you still think you can beat me... Atlas?" Orcus’s voices mocked, dozens layered on dozens, crawling like insects inside his ears.

Atlas’s legs gave way, stone grinding beneath him. His golden aura flared, desperate, but it wasn’t enough. The fist contest broke.

BOOM!

Orcus’s dark fist slammed into Atlas’s chest. The sound was a star imploding.

Atlas’s lungs seized, ribs caving, blood erupting from his mouth in a hot, metallic wave. His so-called invincible Genesis-born skin cracked—an impossibility made real. For the first time in too long, Atlas felt something sharp and primal: true pain.

"...aaahhh—" His gasp for air was pitiful, shredded halfway by blood choking his throat.

Orcus didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Atlas’s hair, yanking him from the shattered ground. His grip was iron, the kind forged in a furnace of hatred.

"...you could have left me alone." The voice was low, almost tired, yet laced with venom.

BOOM!

The punch landed. Atlas’s skull rang, his vision fractured.

"...you could have gone to another kingdom..."

BOOM!

Nose snapped. Teeth scattered with crimson spit.

"...now, you will die, Atlas.... What did you say?"

BOOM!

"...you would send me to Lady Death? Said she is nice?"

BOOM!

Blood painted the broken stones. Atlas’s face swelled, skin splitting like parchment too dry to hold ink. His body jerked with each blow but never went limp. Not yet.

"...I will send you to her now. Maybe she will be more... nice to you."

Orcus drew back, shadow-fist swelling, humming with annihilation. His many mouths widened in a single unholy grin.

Atlas dangled, broken, his golden eyes dimming. Pain burned him hollow, but somewhere inside—something stirred.

This is it. This is how you die, isn’t it? A whisper not his own.

The Guide’s voice slithered in. {{{{{{...need help?}}}}}

Atlas’s lips twitched. Even bloodied, battered, near collapse—he smiled. His golden eyes flared again, jagged, refusing death.

"...shut the fuck up," he rasped, his voice a death rattle dressed as defiance, "...and watch me cook."

...His body ignited. Red light surged from within, not flame, but essence—raw and primal, tearing through him as if his veins could no longer contain it. The essence of the life fruit, the essence of Yggdrasil.

Orcus paused, many eyes narrowing, sensing it.

"...you bear its essence," he muttered, almost reverent. "That explains... a lot."

But his reverence turned to rage. He swung, his fist snapping the sound barrier, intent to crush Atlas’s skull like fruit.

[Yggdrasil’s essence resonating]

Atlas’s golden eyes slit, serpentine. His aura bled out, dark and divine, echoing the coil of an ancient betrayal.

[Jörmungandr’s essence resonating]

BOOM!

The punch met not flesh, but a palm—Atlas’s palm, glowing, shaking, unyielding. His heartbeat thundered, loud as war drums, each pulse vibrating the air itself.

"...?" Orcus froze. That heartbeat was too loud. Too alive. Too wrong.

Atlas’s other hand lashed out, gripping Orcus’s wrist. Bones snapped like twigs.

Crack

He turned, confused, as Atlas’s golden eyes.. he saw it—the same eyes as the Betrayer of Dragons, the Mother of Nine Disasters... Jörmungandr..

"...what... are you?" Orcus roared, fear bleeding into the corners of his many voices.

Atlas’s smirk was broken, blood dripping between shattered teeth, but it was there. Smiling through ruin.

Was he human? Monster? God? No. He was something else. Something unnamed. Something inevitable.

Crack!

Another bone shattered. Orcus screamed, shadows twisting in agony.

"Aaaaaaaa...." He roared in pain.

"...Orcus," Atlas rasped, floating now, golden light lifting him above the battlefield. His bloody fist drew back, every beat of his heart louder, faster.

"Don’t worry...." He beloud in kindness.

[Demon God’s Heart resonating]

"...you... were... strong."