Godslayer's Legend

Arthur returned the crystal to his subspace after speaking, and Diablo nodded before tossing the token back.

Arthur caught it and said, "He has this, and it reacted to Dad’s Authority, so it’s legit."

Patting Pheldir on the back, he added, "Congratulations, you’re free of all suspicion."

He then returned the token to the man and looked at Cattleya, who was frowning at him.

"Come on, mum, we’ve been over this many times already. It’s a necessary risk I have to take to get stronger and remove a major weakness."

As he spoke, he reached into his subspace and pulled out a phone, dialling a number saved on speed dial.

"When and how do you plan to leave?" Diablo asked.

Arthur didn’t respond, only holding up the phone so Diablo could see the name on the call, and after a moment, the line connected.

"Hey, Larry," Arthur said. "My dad’s Arbiter is here, so we’re going to need your services to speed up our trip to Olympus tomorrow."

Arthur immediately tapped the loudspeaker button, just in time for Larry’s mildly surprised voice to come through.

[Tomorrow? And the Arbiter is already here? That’s rather fast.]

"Yeah, he probably used Drifter Express," Arthur replied.

Larry seemed to understand immediately from that response, and then he spoke.

[Very well. That makes it two trips we’ve handled for you.]

"Yes, yes, I know," Arthur nodded with a light chuckle. "Speaking of trips, there’s nothing wrong with me passing one of my trips to someone else, right?"

[Passing it to someone else? Who?]

At that question, Arthur looked up at Diablo and shrugged.

"My grandpa."

Larry immediately clicked his tongue in annoyance, his grumbling voice echoing out. [You’re really taking advantage of us, you know that, right?]

"Of course I am," Arthur replied without apology. "But it’s your boss’s fault. Deal with it."

Larry clicked his tongue again.

[Fine. You can assign one trip to your grandfather. That’s three trips now.]

He ended the call right after speaking, and as Arthur locked the phone screen, Cattleya spoke.

"What’s this about trips?"

Arthur slid the phone into his pocket before replying. "I met the Progenitor Drifter when I went to Valmone, and before meeting him, he took some actions that made things very inconvenient for me.

After I got back home, I went to Larry and had him contact the guy to request compensation in the form of Drifter services. That’s why I can get information about Olympus’ internal structure for free, and that’s why I can have them speed up inter-universal travels that would normally take months down to just a couple of days.

They owe me for the mess their Progenitor caused."

"Hold on a second, Arthur," Creusery said. "Larry has a direct line to the Progenitor of all Drifters?"

When Creusery asked that question, Arthur’s eyes widened slightly as he realised he had just revealed one of Larry’s secrets.

"Ah, right. I forgot that was supposed to be a secret."

He sighed in defeat and then explained, "Fine. Just don’t let him know I told you. Larry is actually an Ancient Breed Drifter, who, like Uncle Bel, who has direct contact with Quinn, has a direct line to Nash, the Progenitor of the Drifters.

His presence isn’t a threat since he’s under strict orders to do nothing but the job he’s been carrying out for the past few hundred thousand years. And also, Uncle Bel’s around, so if Larry does anything silly, Uncle Bel will put him in his place."

Right after saying that, Arthur wrapped his left hand in anti-divinity and placed it on Pheldir’s neck, gripping it firmly.

"You speak of anything you heard here, and you die. Is that clear?"

"!"

A deep chill ran down Pheldir’s spine, a sense of existential dread forming in his heart as he nodded quickly. Somehow, he was more afraid of Arthur, whom he believed to be a Mid-Tier Deity, than he was of the Monarch Realm Diablo.

When Arthur released him, Pheldir rubbed his neck lightly, feeling the burns left behind by Arthur’s anti-divinity that showed no sign of healing.

’Is this the power that can end gods? He’s dangerous.’

Arthur, however, paid no attention to his growing fear, instead slipping his hands into his pockets as he continued speaking. "As I was saying, the Drifters owe me services. One of them is a limited number of expedited inter-universal trips. I’m giving one of those to you, Grandpa. Think of it as thanks for three weeks ago."

Cattleya and Creusery didn’t understand what Arthur meant by that last part, but Diablo, the one who had sent the Hell Dog to the Crystal Realm when Arthur met with Jitriah, instantly understood that Arthur was essentially trying to bribe him into not questioning why he had allowed gods into the Hell universe.

Diablo exhaled softly and waved a hand. "Fine. Do as you please."

"Thanks, grandpa," Arthur said, before teleporting beside Cattleya and linking his right arm with her left. "Now then, mum, let’s go pack. We’re going on a trip tomorrow."

"We’re not going on a vacation, Arthur," Cattleya said, frowning.

"Come on, mum, there’s not much difference."

Arthur replied, wrapping both of them in cosmic energy and teleporting them out of the throne room, leaving Diablo and Creusery behind with Pheldir.

"Handle him," Diablo said.

Creusery nodded silently and instructed Pheldir to follow him, and once they left, Diablo leaned forward on his throne, cupping his palms together as he thought about everything Arthur had done since returning to Hell, including the meeting with that Greater Daedra three weeks ago, and this so-called Drifter compensation he had just mentioned.

The timing of everything felt far too strange to Diablo, and somehow, he felt he would be using that expedited trip very soon.

"That child. Just what is he planning?"

That silent question of his was left without an answer.

◇　◇　◇

While Diablo was silently pondering Arthur’s true intentions, one of the powers behind the group of 24 gods sent to attempt his life was receiving news that the operation had failed badly.

In the central region of a certain universe, within a large throne hall in a castle built atop the highest peak of an Apex World, one of the handlers for the dead assassins knelt before his master and delivered the report of the failure.

"You’re telling me every single one I sent was eliminated?" the voice echoed from the throne.

"Not just... yours," replied the kneeling god, doing his best to remain composed. "Humenia’s, Asgard’s, Vanaheimr’s, Karman’s, Romersk’s, and even Erin’s forces as well."

The god on the throne could barely accept what he was hearing. He pressed his fingers to his temples, clicking his tongue in clear irritation.

"All they had to do was eliminate one little child. How hard could that possibly be?"

His hand slammed down onto the armrest of his throne, the loud impact echoing through the hall.

"I am surrounded by incompetents. I gave them all the information and tools they could possibly need, and they still managed to fail."

The kneeling subordinate didn’t dare speak. He kept his head bowed, completely still, while the man continued venting his frustration on the unfortunate armrest of his throne, fully aware that a single wrong word could easily turn that wrath toward him instead.

And still, in a way, he could understand the man’s anger and exasperation. Given the circumstances, it wasn’t hard to see why he felt that way.

"Over a dozen powerful battle gods, and every single one of them died without leaving even the slightest trace of information.

Since their souls were completely destroyed, we can’t even identify who or what was responsible."

The man could sense that their connection to his Pantheon had been entirely severed, confirming that not even a fragment of those twelve remained in existence.

"No matter how much I think about this, it makes no sense. The whereabouts of those considered the child’s strongest defenders were verified, and not a single one of them was close enough to interfere in time.

Any one of the twelve should’ve been able to eliminate the child with a single strike, and still..."

To the man, it was as though he had deployed a nuclear strike against someone holding a kitchen knife, only for the nuke, no, all TWELVE NUKES, to somehow lose.

That’s how absurd the outcome sounded to him.

The kneeling subordinate took a deep breath, raised a hand, and finally spoke.

"Permission to speak, my King."

At this, the ’King’ on the throne turned his chilling gaze toward the subordinate, his voice equally cold.

"Go ahead."

"Thank you, my King. If I may speak frankly, what if the target was the one responsible for their deaths?"

"Are you out of your mind?"

"..."

A heavy, oppressive silence fell over the hall, the question hanging in the air as it echoed in the subordinate’s ears.

"The child isn’t even up to a century old, and you dare suggest he could be responsible for the deaths of twelve battle gods?

Does the power of a Mid-Rank god sound like a joke to you?"

"..."

The subordinate wanted to argue that their target was an anomaly, a special case that couldn’t be judged by normal standards, no matter how improbable it sounded.

However, unwilling to provoke the wrath of the man on the throne, the subordinate simply bowed their head.

"My apologies. My foolish self failed to understand."

"So, you are self-aware?"

The ’King’ rose from his throne, descending the dais and passing by the subordinate who remained kneeling.

"Get out of my sight."

Without a word, the subordinate bowed so deeply that their forehead nearly touched the floor, then turned and hurried out of the throne room.

They would’ve teleported if they could, but unfortunately, such powers were useless within these walls.

As the doors closed behind him, the ’King’ walked toward the balcony opposite his throne, his gaze resting over the clouds far below.

Suddenly, a voice called out from behind, coming from behind one of the curtains near the door leading out to the balcony.

[How did it go?]

"Horribly. Everything in the original plan was going perfectly.

I had finally convinced them that my connections were fractured and that tensions were rising. They believed I was too occupied with managing those connections and gathering inter-universal power and influence to pay attention to them.

Your power confirmed that everything was proceeding smoothly, so I decided to take advantage of their lowered defences and eliminate him early, without having to follow through with the rest of the convoluted plan."

The man reached out and gripped the balcony railing, power rising from his hand as he crushed it into splinters, his anger building again.

"But somehow, they still managed to fail."

[Of course they did,] the other voice replied.

[I told you, didn’t I? You can’t deal with him that easily.]

The unseen speaker stepped around to the other side of the door and leaned on it as he continued, [They say that in critical situations, delegating tasks rarely goes well. It’s usually best to finish the job with your own hands.]

"Finish the job with my own hands, you say?"

The tone in the man’s response made it clear he saw such an action as beneath him. He spoke as though personally getting his hands dirty was far below his dignity.

However, if the only other option was a failure that would cause his decade-long plans, for which he had risked his influence and reputation, to collapse into ruin...

"Finish the job with my own hands, huh?" he repeated.

The man raised his right hand, clenching and unclenching his fist as he stared out over the balcony at the boundless blue sky.

"Fine."

A burst of divinity erupted from his body, filling the space around him as his eyes lit up with the same azure glow as the sky.

Dark clouds gathered overhead, and from the eye of the storm, a bolt of lightning came down onto his open palm, before morphing and transforming into a giant polearm as long as he was tall.

Clenching the bolt of glowing azure lightning in his hand, the god King declared in his True Voice,

|I’ll do it myself.|

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