The hunt lasted for forty-two minutes. The jungle of the Savage Lands, usually echoing with the roars of apex predators and the frantic scurrying of prey, had fallen into an unnatural silence. Even the native SS-Rank beasts had fled the sector, their primal instincts screaming at them to evacuate the domain of the walking disaster.
Ren Hanshin stood in the center of a muddy clearing, his chest rising and falling in measured breaths. At his feet lay the final survivor of the Silver Coalition. It was one of the A-Rank Tanks who had stood beside Elara at the canyon. The man's silver armor was shattered, crushed inward by a devastating kick. He was crawling through the mud, dragging his paralyzed lower body, leaving a trail of dark blood behind him.
"Wait..." the Tank gurgled, blood bubbling past his lips. He reached a trembling, mud caked hand forward, clutching at the damp roots of a fern. "I... I yield. The system rules say... you can accept a surrender. I'll give you all my Karma... just let me log out..."
Ren walked slowly behind him. The dark fabric of the Embrace of the Weaver dragged slightly in the mud, but the blood and dirt simply slid off the Mythic threads, leaving the coat pristine.
Ren looked down at the broken Avatar. He didn't feel rage anymore. The hot fury of his mortal days had been replaced by the cold, vast emptiness of his new Divine Core.
"The System rules don't apply to me anymore," Ren said. His voice was terrifyingly calm, carrying a faint resonance that sounded like two voices speaking at once.
He raised his right hand. The massive Severance of Destiny hummed rigidly, casting a long, red shadow over the crawling man.
"My Goddess ordered an annihilation," Ren whispered, "and I am a loyal believer."
Ren swung the scythe downward. The blade passed smoothly through the Tank's neck. The man's head slumped into the mud, his desperate crawling coming to a permanent halt.
[Target Eliminated: A-Rank Avatar.]
A cascade of blue holographic screens erupted in Ren's vision, stacking one on top of the other so fast they created a solid wall of digital light.
[Mandatory Quest: 'The Weaver's Jealousy' has been CLEARED!]
[Total Avatars Eliminated: 500 / 500]
[The Silver Coalition has been completely wiped out.]
[Calculating Rewards...]
[You have absorbed a portion of the fallen avatars' stored Karma!]
[You have gained: 45,000,000 Karma Points.]
[Savage Lands Global Ranking updated!]
[Ren Hanshin is now ranked #1 on the Kill Leaderboard.]
Ren casually swiped his hand through the air, dismissing the wall of blue text. The Karma Points were useless to him now. He had more wealth than the entire Awakened Association combined. What he needed was combat experience, and slaughtering five hundred terrified mortals had provided little of it. Before the last blue screen could even fade, the air temperature in the clearing plummeted.
The blue light was overwritten by a crimson glow. The chat box formed, expanding until it covered almost his field of vision. The red text was vibrating with psychotic ecstasy.
[The God of Fate is standing on her throne, screaming your name to the cosmos!]
[God of Fate]: MY KING! MY BEAUTIFUL, PERFECT TYRANT!
[God of Fate]: You wiped away every single trace of her! You burned their alliance to the ground! Every God in the Pantheon just watched you slaughter their little toys without taking a single scratch!
[God of Fate]: They are terrified, Ren. I can feel the God of Rivers weeping in the lower realms. I want to drink her tears. I want to build you a monument from their bones.
[The God of Fate has donated 100,000,000 Karma Points!]
Ren willed the Severance of Destiny to vanish into red mist, absorbing it back into his palm. He reached up and rubbed his temples, fighting off a sudden, sharp headache. The physical toll of killing five hundred people was nonexistent thanks to his Divine Vitality, but the mental weight was heavy. The constant stream of his Goddess' adoration only made the headache worse. She consumed his space, leaving no room for silence.
"Are you satisfied?" Ren asked the empty, bloody clearing, knowing the invisible omni-view camera was hovering inches from his face.
[The God of Fate is pressing her spectral hands against your cheeks.]
[God of Fate]: I am never satisfied. But I am pleased. Very, very pleased.
[God of Fate]: You are covered in their filth, my love. Go to the river to the east. Wash yourself. I want to see your skin glow again.
Ren let out a long, exhausted sigh. "Fine."
He turned and began walking eastward, pushing through the foliage. High above the Savage Lands, the cosmic backlash of Ren's massacre was already sending shockwaves through the universe.
In the celestial galleries of the Sovereign Pantheon, minor gods were in an uproar. They had pooled their resources, grooming those five hundred avatars for years, hoping that a massive alliance could overthrow the dominance of the major gods. It had taken a single hour for an unknown anomaly wearing a black coat to erase their investments.
A golden global announcement suddenly blared across the sky of the Savage Lands, visible to the remaining 9,500 Avatars scattered across the continent.
[GLOBAL ANNOUNCEMENT!]
[A Monumental Feat has been achieved!]
[Avatar 'Ren Hanshin' has secured 500 eliminations.]
[The Pantheon has officially designated him as a Catastrophe-Class Threat.]
[Bounty Added: Any Avatar who eliminates 'The Blood-Soaked Tyrant' will receive a blessing from the Sovereign Council and an SSS-Rank Relic.]
Ren paused, looking up at the golden letters burning in the sky. A Catastrophe-Class Threat. It was a designation usually reserved for SSS-Rank boss monsters that required thousands of hunters to subjugate. The Gods were officially putting a target on his back, trying to use the greed of the remaining avatars to do what the Silver Coalition could not.
"Blood-Soaked Tyrant," Ren muttered, a cold smirk touching his lips. "Catchy."
[God of Fate]: Let them put bounties on you. Let them send their armies. It will only make the pile of corpses higher.
[God of Fate]: But do not let your guard down, Ren. The dogs of War and Death are still on this island. They are watching your broadcast. They are analyzing your Domain.
Ren nodded slowly. He knew Silas and Gideon were out there. They wouldn't charge him like the Coalition did. They would wait. They would hunt.
****
Ten minutes later, Ren broke through the jungle canopy and stepped onto the rocky shore of a massive, flowing river. The water was crystal clear, untouched by the carnage that had taken place miles away. Ren unclasped the Embrace of the Weaver coat, folding it neatly and placing it on a clean boulder. He pulled his dark, sweat soaked shirt over his head, tossing it onto the rocks. His torso was flawless, the muscles packed and defined, devoid of any scars or blemishes thanks to the Tears of the Sovereign. The only mark on his skin was the glowing, intricate crimson brand of the weaver over his heart.
The omni-view camera floated forward, its red recording light blinking, hovering just over the surface of the water.
[The God of Fate is holding her breath.]
[God of Fate]: You are so breathtaking. The water looks so cold. Let me warm it for you.
Before Ren could protest, the water of the river surrounding the rocky shore began to gently bubble and steam. She was using her divine mana to manipulate the temperature of a river just so he wouldn't shiver. Ren waded into the warm water, letting the gentle current wash away the mud, sweat, and dried blood covering his arms and face.
He submerged himself, holding his breath and enjoying the silence beneath the surface. For ten seconds, he was free from the golden announcements in the sky and the shimmering red text of his chat box. For ten seconds, he was just a man in a river.
When he broke the surface, gasping for air and slicking his wet, dark hair back out of his shining crimson eyes, the camera was waiting right there.
[God of Fate]: Do not hide underwater. I missed you.
Ren dragged a hand down his face, wiping the water from his eyes. "It was ten seconds."
[God of Fate]: Ten seconds where I could not see your eyes. That is ten seconds too long.
Ren waded back toward the rocky shore, his divine muscles flexing against the current. He stepped out of the water, the steam rising off his skin in the cool jungle air. He didn't have a towel, but he didn't need one. He flared his Divine Mana, and the excess water evaporated from his body.
He picked up the Embrace of the Weaver and swung it over his bare shoulders. He didn't bother putting the ruined, bloody shirt back on. The coat adjusted its temperature, wrapping him in a comfortable warmth that he knew was a manifestation of her embrace.
"We need to move," Ren said, looking toward the jagged mountains in the distance. "If they are analyzing my broadcast, staying in one place is a tactical error."
[God of Fate]: You are right, my King. But wait.
[God of Fate]: The shadows in this sector... they are shifting unnaturally. The light is being devoured.
Ren's crimson eyes instantly narrowed, stopped moving. He actively pushed his Divine Perception to its maximum limit, skimming the rocky shoreline, the jungle tree line, and the rushing river. There were no massive mana signatures. There were no heartbeats, but there was a distinct lack of something.
"The wind," Ren whispered.
The jungle was loud. The leaves rustled, but looking twenty yards to his left, Ren noticed a cluster of ferns that were perfectly still. The wind was blowing, but the leaves weren't moving. It was as if that specific patch of reality had been painted over with dead silence.
Jubei's teachings came up in Ren's mind. 'When you fight an Avatar of Death, you are not fighting a sword. You are fighting the concept of an ending.'
Ren casually turned his body, keeping his hands relaxed by his sides. He began walking slowly toward the motionless ferns, his Divine Agility coiled like a spring, ready to explode at a notice.
"I know you're there," Ren said aloud, his voice echoing over the rushing water.
The shadows beneath the motionless ferns began to pool together, rising upward like black liquid. The liquid solidified, taking the shape of a tall, slender man wrapped in grey bandages and a dark cloak.
Silas. The Avatar of Death. He held two jagged, curved daggers that absorbed the light around them. His feet hovered one inch above the rocky shore, making zero sound and zero mana.
[System Warning: Legendary Avatar 'Silas' has initiated combat!]
[Hostile Domain Detected: 'The Silent Grave'.]
Silas tilted his bandaged head. His voice manifested as a dry, rotting whisper in Ren's ears.
"The Blood-Soaked Tyrant. You kill mortals well, anomaly, but mortals bleed. Mortals make noise."
Silas raised one of his daggers, pointing it at the crimson brand on Ren's bare chest. "I am the shadow that falls when the sun burns out. You cannot sever what is dead."
The crimson chat box flashed, the text turning into a murderous red.
[God of Fate]: A dead rat is still a rat.
[God of Fate]: Pluck his eyes out, Ren. Bury him in his own grave.
Ren smiled, his crimson eyes burning against the encroaching darkness of Silas' domain.
"We'll see about that," Ren whispered, the blood blade of the Severance of Destiny shattering the air as it formed in his grip.