The Deadly Novelssss 1239

Chapter 1239 A Magnificent End

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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..

eyes, a brief spark of acknowledgment

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A Magnificent

a deep breath,

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tighter, the force

It.

came like

the frozen carth, leaving

massive frame rebounded, lifting three

each strike

his hair whipped violently

a god of war,

his fist, the raw, deadly power of centuries packed into the blow. It

stood unmoving, like a mountain, unshaken. With a single hand, he met Gustov’s furious

The impact was deafening.

tore through the

as if it, too, had

soaring a hundred feet backward, his arm disintegrating midair into a spray of blood under the full

leaping through the air like a missile, charging for the

even brace himself, Robin’s fist slammed into his

of it

in with a sickening

his mouth, staining

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

Robin sent Gustov’s nearly six–foot–five frame flying another 150 feet, crashing to the

world fell still.

echoed, slow and deliberate, as he approached the struggling

was a countdown. A toll. A death bell

place, felt

was the end of a

Tanqueria’s Cod of War shattered before

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A

thick as smoke, the

One spark. One mistake.

crupt in a bloodbath that would

stood still, his eyes

his chest,

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to stop Robin. But Zayden stepped in his way. “Mr. Morrison, think this through. Your

ran

Drakebane was no one a diplomat

unfolding was the fight of

who had risen through

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