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..

his battle–hardened eyes, a

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A Magnificent

in a deep breath, gathering every ounce of His

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clenched tighter,

It.

like an avalanche–unstoppable,

frozen carth, leaving deep craters

step, his massive frame rebounded, lifting three

strike

cold moonlight, his hair whipped

a god of war, descending from the

deadly power of centuries

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

The impact was deafening.

crack tore

distant moon trembled, as if

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

the air like a missile, charging for the fallen

himself, Robin’s fist slammed into his

sound of it

caved in with a

his mouth, staining

drowned in deep crimson–like a

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

world fell still.

deliberate, as he approached the struggling god of

A death bell ringing louder with

felt their hearts rise in their

end of a

Cod of War shattered

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air, thick as smoke, the calm before

One spark. One mistake.

world would crupt in a bloodbath that would

his eyes sharp

in his chest, out

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stop Robin. But Zayden stepped in his way. “Mr. Morrison, think this through. Your arrogance might just get you killed

ran

hit him. Divine Drakebane was no one a diplomat like

fight

pawn who had risen through favors, had

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