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

1/4

A

deep breath,

FOX 71% S

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tighter, the force

It.

like an avalanche–unstoppable,

tearing through the frozen carth, leaving deep craters in his

every step, his massive frame rebounded,

strike

moonlight, his

a god of war, descending from

of centuries packed into the blow. It slammed toward

unshaken. With a single hand, he met

The impact was deafening.

tore

trembled, as if it,

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

motion, leaping through the air like a missile, charging

himself, Robin’s fist slammed

of it was

caved in with

erupted from his mouth, staining the pure

silver glow of the moon was drowned in deep crimson–like a

his wrist, Robin sent Gustov’s nearly six–foot–five frame flying another 150 feet, crashing to the ground with brutal

fell

and deliberate, as he

countdown. A toll. A

place, felt

end of a

of War shattered

2/4

1%

A

air, thick as smoke, the calm before the

One spark. One mistake.

would crupt in a bloodbath

his eyes sharp and

in his chest, out of

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in his way. “Mr. Morrison,

chill ran down

no one a diplomat like him

was the fight of

a pawn who had risen through favors, had no right to

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