Overgeared

A thousand cows—no, even if he slaughtered half this number of cows, he would still be called a master of his craft. However, the number of enemies that Grid had killed was unfathomable. His level, which had reached 900, was the result of countless deaths.

From humans to monsters, half-gods, and demons—Grid was able to draw their anatomical diagrams in his head as soon as he saw them, no matter what shape the target had. It was possible to easily cause a fatal wound and dismantle them in any environment.

Additionally, he now had the strongest sword ever in his hands. Two dragon weapons made from the by-products of an Old Dragon—the sword made by combining them into one almost unconditionally found the enemy’s weakness and was incredibly sharp. It was to the extent where Grid just felt that Baal’s self-defense and skin were ‘a bit tough.’

The king of hell, who reigned as an invincible being and determined the fate of hell and the surface, was reduced to the status of livestock to be slaughtered.

The sound of the magical self-defense and skin being pierced and slashed echoed eerily. The sound of bones being smashed and organs bursting was a bonus.

Baal had the illusion that a swarm of bees was buzzing through his mind. He kept getting goosebumps and his back was tingling.

“......”

Baal’s vision turned white as he looked down at his belly that was split apart the moment it regenerated. It hurt terribly. He had always taken his wounds lightly because he was in a position to overcome them. After witnessing his organs being pulled out and smashed several times in front of his eyes, the concept of being a brain in a vat dominated his mind.

“...Kuock!”

Baal naturally resisted. He actively utilized his natural power by using the skills he had stolen from those who died and fell into hell. However, things didn’t work out as planned. It was because the metal hands held each other and pressed on him, narrowing the gap.

The God Hands—Grid’s artifacts, which had been increased to hundreds, created a circular space and it was a prison that Baal had never experienced before. It gradually narrowed and robbed Baal of his freedom.

Baal couldn’t move as much as he wanted because they didn’t break even when he hit them with all his might. At first, he thought it was okay. He was able to regenerate faster than he was cut, stabbed, and wounded by Grid. Grid had most of his sword dances sealed and wasn’t necessarily powerful. Even if Baal died, he could overcome it.

Baal was confident that he could hold out forever until this pressure was lifted. This was what he thought a while ago.

Bam bam!

“...Kuaaaack!”

Baal let out the scream that he had barely been able to contain. It was around this time that the power contained in Grid’s sword became even stronger than before. Before he could finish regenerating, new wounds tore him apart and inflicted even greater pain.

It was only then that Baal realized his own death. Grid becoming stronger in real time meant he was dead.

“This... this jerk...” Baal cursed in a low voice. There was no time to be conscious of the epic. He felt confused. It was because emotions he didn’t understand came flooding in. Was this the feeling of the toys he had played with so far?

The emotion that rose up along with such a ridiculous idea—it was fear. For the last thousands of years, Baal had planned, witnessed, and learned about countless deaths. He had always savored with interest the despair, sadness, pain, and fear felt by the dead, and it went beyond the level of familiarity.

However, he hadn’t experienced it himself. Thus, he had been enjoying it happily without sympathizing with the feelings of the dead. Then at this moment, it became a reality.

be called alive if he kept being killed by Grid? He didn’t want to feel this pain

“Shit...! Shit!”

He had the idea that if he was going to die

occurred, Grid’s absolute defense cracked and finally melted away. The red armor, which had been soaked in Baal’s blood, grew more brittle as the heat of magic surged through it.

Grid’s expression was

the breath of the Frost Queen, they could neither burn nor freeze Grid’s

hell!” Baal read the will contained in Grid’s armor and shouted while trembling. How many times had he already suffered a setback from the will contained in that armor? At this point, it felt like it was Khan, not Grid, that was the cause of everything. He felt anger at the powerless heavenly gods who

“......”

which had bore a dull expression as

Gulp.

was projected in the small pupils of

“Gasp...!”

to gasp. He was decapitated, died

distorted face loomed over

you don’t deserve to curse anyone now.” Grid’s eerie voice filled the narrow space. “It

worst situation that Baal imagined a reality. At the pain that followed, Baal recalled a question he had in the distant past. He was a child of a God of the Beginning, but he wasn’t

leave heaven to build a shelter for the dead and cast him into

Why should I have to

and became blurred, came alive again. No, malice was the more appropriate word. Was a life where everything went his way really

had always been the same, expressed emotions such as anger, resentment, and killing intent without hiding them. At the

dozens and hundreds of times larger, shaking the prison created by the God Hands. Eventually,

he could be seen anywhere in hell and he stood tall in the center of

there, a place that was originally Beriache’s castle. They were pictorial records of the birth

was red, Beriache

was a giant. Just like right

the first time his true appearance was fully revealed. This was probably his fourth phase after going past his normal phase, the phase he was in when he used the energy

it was the coming of the end. No matter what type of raid it was, the final phase was meant to be the beginning, not the end. He shouldn’t be excited. It was real from now

concentration that had been consumed by fighting for half a day

why is everything above

moment Baal was born, he had to always look up at the sky. There was the surface beyond the sky. Those who died

care of the dead who will suffer from the loss of death

disgusting voice lingered

place from here,

over his head. This was even though he was a child of a God of the Beginning. This was despite being born with a body that was bigger than anyone else’s. He had to stare endlessly at those that were

[It was absurd...]

all the circumstances he was born in as oppression. Naturally, he started to resent Yatan for giving birth to him. He came to hate the world. This was how

Yatan, who left Asgard because he was good, his