An Understated Dominance (Dustin Rhys)

When the dust finally settled, Arion was the only one left standing.

Bailey, Willem, Anthony, Batuul, the three elite assassins from Eskus, and several gods from the Hall of Gods were either dead or gravely injured.

Willem’s body had been blasted into countless pieces. Each fragment wriggled on the ground as it struggled to piece together. Batuul fared even worse. He was utterly obliterated, leaving no trace behind, not even ashes.

On the contrary, Bailey and the three Eskus assassins had both their arms severed and were gravely wounded.

Though Anthony’s limbs were still intact, his crushed internal organs left him coughing up blood. The backlash from the demonic blade had also taken a devastating toll on his body.

He now appeared decades older, his face gaunt and hollow, his hair gray.

His frail frame made him look like a man standing at death’s door.

“H-How is this possible? No… this can’t be happening!” Bailey’s expression was a mixture of shock and disbelief as he stared at the carnage- the severed limbs and mangled bodies littering the ground.

The people who lay there weren’t just any fighters-they were the top martial artists from around the globe. Each one alone could dominate entire battlefields with ease.

these elite fighters would be unable to withstand even a single strike from Arion’s blade. Or rather, Arion’s strength

and used their ultimate techniques, yet all they managed to kill was a Papercraft Clone. When the real Arion entered the fray, they didn’t even have the strength to defend

difference in strength was absolute -Arion was in a league of his own. Their ambush that day was nothing short of

with others and never look for trouble. But bastards like you had the nerve to attack Sacred Wrym Summit. Tell me, who the hell gave you the guts to do that?”

overwhelming that Bailey and the few survivors could

dropped to their knees and begged

just a man. He was like a god-powerful, fearsome, and untouchable. With no other

Summit. Please have mercy and forgive me. I’ll give up everything I have to make amends,” Anthony begged, dropping to his knees with his head down in complete submission. His tone was the most

that point, pride and honor were irrelevant-survival was all

and time again. If I let you go, how could I ever face the souls

that said, ‘Admitting a mistake is the first step toward redemption.’ I know I was wrong. If you spare my life, I swear I’ll never oppose your nation again.

Anthony smashed his forehead against the

said coldly. “But don’t worry, I forgive you. Just try

his hand and swung his sword. A

Foyer, please spare me!” Anthony