A sharp scream ripped through the forest.
Then came the wet shrrkk of flesh splitting apart.
Midnight-blue lightning erupted through the trees like divine judgment itself, carving bodies in half before the victims even realized they had died. Blood sprayed across bark and frozen leaves, painting the forest floor crimson beneath the storm-lit night.
Panic spread instantly.
Men screamed.
Magic exploded wildly.
Weapons clattered uselessly to the ground.
But none of it mattered.
Because the thing hunting them wasn't human anymore.
A deep laugh echoed through the woods.
Not crazed.
Not sadistic.
Just... bored.
"What weak subordinates," the voice sighed. "Why even bother challenging me?"
Shiran stepped through the massacre calmly.
The half-giant towered above the corpses surrounding him, his massive frame wrapped in crackling dark-blue electricity that distorted the atmosphere itself. His expression remained utterly emotionless as severed limbs and burning corpses littered the path beneath his feet.
Death no longer moved him.
It barely interested him.
One surviving mage stumbled backward desperately, hands shaking as he tried forming a spell.
Shiran glanced at him lazily.
Then snapped his fingers.
BOOOOM.
Invisible storms tore the man apart instantly.
Not just his body.
Everything.
Wind blades infused with spatial lightning shredded through his existence across multiple timelines simultaneously, erasing alternate versions of him before they could even exist. Entire realities split apart around the attack.
The forest finally fell silent.
Only thunder remained.
Shiran looked skyward, watching the massive storm clouds spiral endlessly above him. Lightning crawled across his skin instinctively, responding to his emotions.
Or rather—
his lack of emotion.
This wasn't even a challenge.
These warriors had been sent to slow him down.
Disposable trash standing between him and his true objective.
Another dependent.
Another fragment of divinity to consume.
The Storm God's chosen continued forward through the burning woods, the sheer density of his magic causing the surrounding world to fracture slightly around him. Trees split apart simply from existing too close to his aura.
Then—
he saw the castle.
Shiran stopped.
Silence.
The massive fortress loomed atop a mountain ridge like a parody of evil itself. Black towers curved unnaturally into the sky while rivers of crimson lava flowed around the outer walls dramatically.
It looked absurd.
Like something a teenager obsessed with demons would've designed.
"Tacky," Shiran muttered flatly.
Lightning sparked across his body again.
Though massive even for a giant, raw size wasn't what made him terrifying.
It was his bloodline.
Ancient celestial spirit blood flowed through his veins, inherited from beings older than nations and feared even among divine races. Few knew the truth about his origin.
Most were already dead.
His translucent blue hair shifted softly in the storm winds while old memories surfaced briefly.
Abandoned.
Discarded.
Thrown away by his parents because they feared what he was becoming.
That pain had awakened his first Gate.
And the moment it opened—
his entire home planet died beneath one uncontrollable lightning strike.
Shiran had watched billions perish beneath storms powerful enough to split worlds apart.
He hadn't cried.
He hadn't apologized.
And he certainly hadn't regretted it.
The Storm God had found him shortly after.
Not horrified.
Impressed.
Dark blue energy erupted around Shiran as his aura synchronized further with his divine authority. Wind screamed around him violently while lightning bent unnaturally toward his body like worshippers kneeling before a king.
Then—
BOOOOOOM.
A thunderclap detonated across the heavens.
The castle exploded instantly.
Entire towers vaporized outward into debris and molten stone.
Yet amidst the destruction—
someone remained seated calmly atop a crumbling throne.
A man wrapped in shimmering violet magic.
The energy around him felt wrong.
Not elemental.
Not spiritual.
Destruction.
Pure destruction.
"Your little storms don't compare to my destruction," the man said softly.
His voice was strangely calm for someone surrounded by annihilation. Deep orange skin glowed faintly beneath the violet aura while crimson eyes radiated ancient malice.
Shiran stared at him for several seconds.
Then laughed quietly.
"Phew," he sighed. "You're hilarious."
Lightning cracked behind him.
"My storms are destruction."
The Destruction Dependent raised one finger.
A beam of dark energy ripped forward instantly, erasing space itself as it traveled.
Shiran casually stepped sideways.
The beam missed.
Three wind blades instantly appeared around the enemy simultaneously, shrieking through dimensions themselves as they crossed toward him.
The man countered immediately.
Dark spheres of entropy collided against the attacks.
Reality exploded.
And the battle began.
The world shattered around them.
Storms collided with primordial destruction as both dependents unleashed magic beyond mortal comprehension. Hurricanes made of molten lightning tore across continents while black novas collapsed sections of reality into nothingness.
Ice storms froze dimensional layers.
Entropy flames erased causality itself.
Thunder ruptured the heavens.
Destruction consumed logic.
The battlefield ceased resembling a world.
It became an apocalypse.
Yet through all of it—
Shiran remained calm.
Because he understood something his opponent didn't.
The first attacks were never meant to kill him.
They were preparation.
Every wind blade Shiran released carried microscopic dimensional cuts designed specifically to sever magical circulation pathways. Tiny invisible wounds accumulated gradually across the Destruction Dependent's body.
And now—
they activated.
The man's next spell collapsed instantly in his hands.
His eyes widened.
Too late.
Shiran finally smiled slightly.
"You never noticed."
The dependent snarled furiously and abandoned magic altogether.
A massive morning star wrapped in abyssal energy materialized in his grasp as he charged forward with killing intent.
But Shiran had already disappeared.
Lightning cracked once.
And suddenly—
he stood behind him.
Takemikazuchi rested quietly in his hand.
The divine katana hummed softly with stormlight.
One slash.
Silence.
The man's head slid cleanly from his shoulders.
His body remained standing for several seconds before collapsing slowly onto the ruined ground beneath the storm.
From the corpse emerged dark purple divine light.
The essence of destruction itself.
It hovered briefly—
then shot directly into Shiran's chest.
The effect was immediate.
His aura exploded outward violently.
Storm clouds spanning galaxies formed overhead while lightning changed color entirely, shifting toward deep celestial blue. Takemikazuchi glowed brighter as ancient runes illuminated along its blade.
Shiran exhaled slowly.
His strength had multiplied twentyfold instantly.
Another dependent consumed.
Another fragment of godhood absorbed.
"One step closer," he murmured.
Then his body dissolved into wind.
Gone.
Moments later—
the battlefield imploded.
The castle.
The corpses.
The mountains.
The land itself.
Everything collapsed inward beneath a singularity of compressed storm force until reality folded into itself completely.
And then—
nothing remained.
Only silence.
And the fading memory of a storm powerful enough to make even gods afraid.