The Deadly Novelssss 1239

Chapter 1239 A Magnificent End

+8 Pearls

For 20 days, the Borcalis night sky had been ravaged by blizzards. Then, suddenly, the storm stopped.

The thick, ancient clouds, once suffocating the land, cracked open. A brilliant, searing white light pierced through the darkness.

A full moon emerged, its icy glow cutting through the night.

Thousands of stars followed, each burning fiercely in the brief moment between seconds.

The moon’s cold rays washed over the endless snowfield.

The thick smoke still coiled in the air, heavy with the stench of death.

Blood had frozen, solidifying into jagged ice.

Lifeless bodies, torn apart by explosions, littered the frozen wasteland.

Each shattered corpse was a stark reminder: peace had never existed here.

The law of survival had always been simple: the strong survive, the weak fall.

Civilization? Harmony? Beauty? Illusions. Mere facades built by the powerful to conceal the truth.

Only those at the top knew the unflinching reality. In the end, the strongest fist decided everything.

Moonlight glinted off Gustov’s trembling body, casting a ghostly glow.

His arm–the one that had thrown countless punishing strikes–swelled with visible damage.

He understood now.

Robin had barely used 30% of his power during their exchange.

Had Robin gone all out, Gustov would’ve been nothing but a smear of blood after the first punch.

Gustov’s fury erupted. “Divine Drakebane! Why didn’t you use your full strength? Are you trying to mock me?!”

Robin’s gaze flicked up, his eyebrow arched lazily.

“The reason I didn’t use everything I had,” he said smoothly, “is because I remember the bond you shared with my grandfather, Dragon Lord.”

“Twenty punches of mercy are over.”

“From now on, we fight for our own reasons.”

“Get ready. I won’t hold back.”

Gustov froze, his rage replaced by a flicker of respect..

battle–hardened eyes, a brief

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deep breath, gathering every

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fist, forged through countless battles, clenched tighter, the force of

It.

punch came like an

his boots tearing through the frozen carth, leaving deep craters

every step, his massive frame rebounded,

strike

his hair whipped violently

a god of

power of centuries packed into the blow. It slammed toward

unmoving, like a mountain, unshaken. With a single hand, he met

The impact was deafening.

tore through

the distant moon trembled, as if it, too, had felt the

backward, his arm disintegrating midair

leaping through the air like a missile, charging for the

brace himself, Robin’s fist slammed

of

in

mouth, staining the

was drowned in deep crimson–like a blade stained with blood, lost in

sent Gustov’s nearly six–foot–five frame flying another 150

fell still.

footsteps echoed, slow and deliberate, as he approached the struggling god

toll. A death bell ringing louder with each

felt their hearts rise

the end of a

of Tanqueria’s Cod of War shattered before their

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1%

1239 A Magnificent

as

One spark. One mistake.

would crupt in a bloodbath that

stood still, his eyes sharp and

in his chest, out

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in his way. “Mr. Morrison, think this

ran

Divine Drakebane was no one a diplomat like him could

fight of the

had risen through favors, had

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