Get those stones going boys and femboys, we need to get those numbers up!
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*****
{Chapter: 251 The Timeline Lies}
The mage replied, voice steady, laced with contempt.
"They're gone. Hidden where your filth won't reach. You might have pierced our defenses, but you won't touch the legacy of the Kafira Library."
Dex tilted his head, mildly amused. "So long as they're not destroyed, I don't care."
He began to raise his hand—
But didn't finish.
Suddenly… reality bent.
A ripple in the air. A pulse.
And then came the strike.
"BOOOOOOOOM!!!"
There was no warning.
No chant.
No sigil.
Just the fist of a titan.
A transparent shockwave slammed into Dex with impossible force. The sheer momentum of the strike rippled space itself, compressing light and cracking magical residue.
Dex was flung backward like a ragdoll in a hurricane, blown through wall after wall after wall—ten in total, before he embedded like a meteor into the farthest reinforced support column.
The stone behind him shattered.
Steel supports buckled.
The entire tower groaned like a dying beast.
Dex was buried up to his chest, wings bent, half his face scraped raw.
It was the hardest hit he'd taken in centuries.
And for the first time…
Dex looked stunned.
He groaned, flexed his claws, and pushed himself out of the wall. Smoke rose from his armor. The exoskeleton on his chest was fractured—spiderweb cracks spreading across the plating like lightning on glass.
More worrying?
Every single one of his layered, passive
defensive spells had been activated.
And shattered.
These spells were meant to automatically react to things even Dex couldn't see. To intercept light-speed ambushes, surprise divine strikes, soul slashes—anything he couldn't predict.
This one… slipped past all of them.
No precognition. No perception. No trigger.
"...What the hell hit me?" Dex muttered.
He coughed out a gob of blackened blood.
His wings flexed, molten feathers falling like sparks.
Across the hall, the [Demigod Mage] still hadn't moved.
His hands remained behind his back.
He hadn't even blinked.
But someone else was standing now, previously hidden by the flickering shadows.
A warrior.
Armored in light forged from seven schools of magic, their presence bent gravity itself.
Their eyes glowed like twin suns.
And they were walking slowly toward Dex.
"You wanted to know who chose you."
"I'm right here."
Dex smiled, blood leaking from his lip.
"...Interesting."
---
The Library's Inner Battlefield — Shattered Knowledge Sanctum
From the moment the battle began, Dex had been overwhelmed—but not outplayed.
What unnerved him was not the power of the blows but the mystery behind them. He, a high-ranking demon whose mind could process dozens of complex spell structures per second, had been completely unable to detect or even interpret the incoming strikes.
There were no incantations.
No mana fluctuations.
No arcane distortions.
Yet, the moment he dared to cast a reconnaissance spell to analyze his opponent,
BOOM!
The strike came again.
Invisible. Instantaneous.
This time, he didn't have the luxury of layered defensive spells buffering the blow.
And it showed.
"Crack! Splorch!"
Over ten exorcism-class effects detonated across Dex's monstrous body in the blink of an eye. The magic laced with divine purification was specifically tailored to obliterate unholy beings like him. The spells tore through his corrupted flesh, bypassed his resistance, and melted his protections like snow under lava.
The [Exoskeleton-Scarlet]—his pride, his defense forged in infernal hellfire—collapsed.
It didn't crack—it peeled, bubbled, and melted away like diseased skin. Flesh beneath sizzled, liquefied, and fell in bloody, smoking globs to the floor.
Plop. Plop. Hissssss.
Each drop corroded the enchanted stone beneath him, eating pits deep into the library floor. Within seconds, holes opened like hellmouths, releasing smoke and blood-colored steam.
Dex looked down.
His abdominal cavity was exposed—raw, seething, and horrifying, with one of his lungs visibly twitching. Yet he smiled.
His dissolving face stretched into something amused, perhaps even respectful.
"That was… a fine hit. I didn't expect to meet someone like you here," Dex said hoarsely, grinning through a mouth half-melted, teeth showing through cooked gums.
Before he could utter another word—
WHAM!!!
The third strike came.
This time, half his torso vanished in a vaporized blast. Flesh, bone, and organs exploded outward, raining gore and burning fragments across the shattered chamber.
His body toppled like a felled titan, slamming into the blood-soaked ground.
Larte, the calm, violet-skinned demigod wizard, didn't blink. He didn't gloat. Instead, he raised a hand and unleashed a barrage of magical attacks at point-blank range.
Crimson Lightning Spears.
Holy-Soul Disintegration Arrows.
Gravity Collapse Hexes.
And a [Sunfire Lance]—a forbidden-tier spell that pierced dimensions and ignited the soul.
Dex's remains were pulverized. His blood turned to ash. His spiritual residue—erased.
The air hissed and crackled as the smell of burnt evil filled the sanctum. A few stunned mages behind Larte began to cheer, thinking the monster had finally fallen.
But then…
Something unnatural stirred.
A tremor ran through the floor. Then another.
Behind Larte, where Dex's remains had been reduced to scorched sludge, a pool of thick, blood-red liquid suddenly boiled.
It glowed, pulsing with unnatural rhythm—like a living, angry heart.
"Sssssshlurrp..."
From that cursed ooze, a staircase of blood emerged—each step folding out like wet paper, forged from raw malice and hatred.
And from beneath it…
Dex walked out.
Unharmed. Whole. Smiling.
With each step, his form swelled, regenerating from humanoid size to his original demonic mass—fifteen meters tall, wings trailing shadowfire, exoskeleton reforged.
"Don't leave so quickly," Dex said with a smirk, flexing his claws. "We're just getting started."
Larte didn't hesitate.
He struck again—instantly.
Another invisible blow—this time reinforced with [Temporal Compression] and [Holy Reversal]—landed on Dex's chest with so much force that his entire body collapsed into gore once more.
This time, there was no delay.
Larte summoned a chain of anti-demon spells, ripped an artifact from his robes—a relic forged by angelic smiths, and plunged it into the blood.
The relic released a radiant nova that caused all unholy matter within its radius to disintegrate.
BOOOOOM!
The library shook. Windows exploded. Floors cracked. The roof nearly collapsed.
Dex's puddle of remains was turned into smoking vapor.
No bones. No trace. No aura.
The air was now still. Larte's subordinates, shaken and battered, began to approach.
But before Larte could even speak—
"Didn't hurt that time."
Dex's voice echoed again.
From the smoke, the scent of rotted hope and hate poured forth.
The shadows trembled.
And like a glitch in reality, Dex's body reassembled, not from the ground… but from the malice hanging in the air itself.
His body was painted back into existence by negative emotion—by the fear of the survivors, the sorrow of the dying, and the anger of the battlefield below.
Each drop of evil will in the city fed into his existence, reknitting his body molecule by molecule.
[Undying Evil Body]
– Evil and Resentful Immortal Body –
Hatred, resentment, greed, agony, lust, envy… all evil thoughts fuel your resurrection. Anyone who sees you is tainted. And as long as wickedness lingers, you will never fall.]
Dex now stood tall again.
Pristine. Powerful. Invincible.
He spread his arms.
"You put on a good show. But your attack, even divine… has no meaning now. I'm not just alive—I'm stronger."
Larte's face turned grim.
His breathing slowed. His fingers curled slightly, channeling another spell. But his calm was cracked.
Because Dex hadn't just returned—he was radiating more power than before.
The chamber began to distort, vibrating with demonic pressure. The very walls of the sanctum were beginning to warp, torn between realms. A thin red mist leaked through the cracks.
And from above, through the still-burning holes in the tower—screams.
More battles raged in the upper floors.
"If one demigod couldn't kill him," one young legend whispered behind Larte, "how do we fight this thing?"
Larte didn't answer.
His next spell had already begun.
And this time, he was preparing to burn a portion of his soul.
---
A few minutes had passed.
And yet again…
Dex was mangled beyond recognition.
What remained of his once-monstrous face was barely half a skull fused to a burnt neck-stump.
One eye socket remained intact, its pupil flickering with infernal light, while the other had been vaporized along with the upper jaw.
Steam hissed from holes in his neck. Charred nerves twitched.
And still, he stood.
Casually, as though this were a moment of boredom, Dex reached up and plucked out what was left of his brain—a smoldering clump of tissue, the edges blackened and frayed from divine spell burn.
He twirled the lump between his fingers, letting it squish grotesquely in his palm. Then he gave it a careless shake, flicking off a few stringy bits of tissue that hissed as they hit the scorched ground.
"Truly troublesome..." he muttered, almost conversational. "An attack I cannot perceive or avoid, and a foe I cannot touch. How very… vexing." Despite the state of his body, Dex radiated no fear. No anger. Just detached curiosity.
And that calm was unsettling.
Because over the past few minutes, Dex had been obliterated more than twenty times.
Not defeated. Not worn down.
Obliterated.
Blown to pulp.
Disintegrated.
Pulverized.
Scattered into blood mist.
And each time, he returned—his grin unfading, his confidence unshaken.
If not for his terrifying racial trait [Undying Evil Body], this one-sided beating would've ended him several times over.
But now…
Even Dex was feeling a strange sense of irritation. It was the first time he'd ever been forced into this many regenerations in such a short span.
And for someone who relished battle, this wasn't even entertaining anymore—it was simply annoying. Every time he went after the enemy, the Dami-God somehow managed to dodge no matter what type of attack he used..
Across the ruined hall, standing atop cracked marble tiles and surrounded by battered professionals, Larte remained outwardly composed.
But in truth?
Even he was struggling to suppress unease.
He had faced countless powerful creatures—liches, vampires, void abominations, undead demigods—but never something like Dex.
Most enemies, no matter how tough, could be worn down. Once, twice, maybe three times… a high-level opponent could feign immortality. But after twenty Disintegrations? With no loss of strength?
"This isn't magic," Larte thought. "This is… something far worse."
*****
Get those stones going boys and femboys, we need to get those numbers up!
If you want to discuss the story or just meme about join my discord server: 76ybzdTK
*****