Chapter 108: The Most Enigmatic Assassin on the Human Side
"But…"
"No buts."
That was the end of the conversation—at least for now. The decision, or rather the refusal to reveal it, weighed heavily on Gray's heart.
She stood motionless in the coliseum, watching Heimdall take center stage. His voice rang out, grim and heavy, recounting the tragic defeats of the gods in the first three rounds.
"...And so now, the final war between gods and humans enters its fourth round. Can the divine side stop its losing streak? Can the gods withstand yet another defeat?"
He took a deep breath—clearly preparing to deliver a more stirring proclamation.
Then, his phone buzzed. The match roster had just arrived. Heimdall's eyes widened as he glanced at the screen. He blinked twice, stunned by the name listed under the divine faction.
After three straight losses, it made sense they'd send out someone truly formidable. And this particular warrior… was certainly not ordinary.
"To secure victory, the gods have dispatched a supreme general from the Underworld—"
At that very moment, far removed from the arena's roars, another man sensed the stirrings of a third-party presence—an assassin's instinct, sharpened through countless clandestine battles.
In those brief windows where even the gods could be slain, he had activated his secret arsenal: three unlock cards, each granting him three minutes of transcendent capability.
That had been another time. That assassin had already passed—his death executed during the purging of traitors from the cult.
Yet the shadows never truly release their grip.
He had returned, wearing another guise, carrying the mantle of a new identity—Xiang Yu, the artificial human. A construct perfected enough to cross into the main world. His form, his role… a seamless deception.
This new persona emerged in tandem with the latest leader of the Assassin Order, though separated by time and distance.
His incursion into the current era wasn't physical—not exactly. Through the Akasha system, he summoned a fragment of himself from that age, embedding instructions, dispatching his former self.
Contingencies had been set. If anything went awry, another role would awaken.
There had been a watcher in that period too—someone who saw far too much. But thanks to meticulous magical research and temporal manipulation via Akasha, the watcher had been drawn into a trap, his soul forcibly extracted into this era.
And once the impersonation met its threshold, he unleashed a one-time reward: instant death, guaranteed.
After that, no one dared peer into his timeline again.
At the Arena: The Final Battle Between Gods and Humans
All eyes turned to the divine gate.
"Who's coming out for the gods this time?" murmurs rippled through the stands.
Heimdall's voice—still reverberating through the megasphere—had hinted: the chosen warrior hailed from the Underworld.
The crowd shuddered. Throats tightened. Expectations soared.
Could it be that one?
Gray felt her spine turn to ice. She wasn't alone. Even the gods themselves held their breath.
From the Valkyrie side, Gray—youngest among her sisters—spoke in a trembling voice:
"From the Underworld?"
If they were losing three-to-zero, then whoever came next had to be unprecedented.
And if that person was truly stepping onto the stage…
She glanced at her elder sister Brünnhilde, who seemed outwardly calm. But a faint sheen of sweat along her temples betrayed her anxiety.
Suddenly, a suffocating wave of death spread across the arena. Gray involuntarily shivered.
From the god side, an ominous aura emerged. Death incarnate was arriving.
"…Ah…"
"…Ahhhh…"
"Such overwhelming Underworld pressure… this is the aura of the Supreme Death!"
"It can't be wrong—"
"It's him!"
Excitement surged through the divine faction, eyes locked on the gate.
"Yes! The gods' supreme general… this man!"
Heimdall pushed his voice to the highest pitch, just as the figure stepped out.
His silhouette became visible—a towering presence that froze the atmosphere.
"When this god walks, the world trembles. When his gaze falls, even deities bow and beg!"
Because this was no ordinary deity.
This was the King of the Underworld. Death made flesh.
"He is the eldest of the three greatest brothers of the Greek pantheon—"
Heimdall inhaled sharply and announced with near reverent intensity:
"Hades!"
Thunderous roars erupted.
"The King of the Underworld himself?!"
"This time—we truly have victory!"
The human faction wavered.
Hades was a myth so storied, his exploits shook the foundations of divine legend.
How could one defeat the embodiment of death?
"This battle—we've won!!!"
Ares, the war god, clenched his fist and punched the air triumphantly. His idol had arrived.
There was no way Hades would lose. Ares knew how formidable he was.
During the crisis of the Titan Wars—when the Greek pantheon teetered on annihilation—Hades alone had annihilated an entire army of Titans.
So Ares couldn't even entertain the idea of him losing.
With Hades on their side, the gods would finally score a win.
Which meant Brünnhilde would soon be silenced.
Ares remembered her—how she'd met him with courteous words that oozed sarcasm. The memory still made him grind his teeth.
"Ugh!"
He scoffed bitterly.
"Brünnhilde, is it possible that—"
Loki's eyes narrowed.
He suspected she had never intended to win this round.
Would she really send someone weak—just to waste Hades's one appearance?
On the divine side, murmurs intensified as Heimdall prepared to announce the human representative.
"…Wait, huh? They still haven't summoned anyone? You want me to summon them now?"
His voice sounded confused. And that confirmed Loki's suspicion.
Summoning at the arena meant no preparation. Disposable bait.
"Is Brünnhilde giving up this round?"
Zeus frowned.
"Ha! That means I got lucky!"
Shiva laughed—he'd almost been chosen for this match but lost to Hades by a game of rock-paper-scissors.
"And now they're throwing in a nobody?"
Then Heimdall's tone changed.
"The human representative is no ordinary mortal. This is a legend… one born in shadow, who forged an assassin's cult that has endured to the present day!"
Light appeared on the stage. A summoning circle.
"This man is the most mysterious assassin… the original bearer of the title passed down for generations: Old Man of the Mountain—Hassan-i-Sabbah!"
Chapter 109: He is Death More Than Even Hades
"Old Man of the Mountain?"
Ares blinked.
"You're kidding me!"
Was Brünnhilde really sending an old assassin to fight Hades?!
Was she mocking the god of death?
Or… was this old man more than he seemed?
"You knew it all along, didn't you, Brünnhilde?" Loki glared at her.
She remained silent.
"What do you mean?"
"She never intended to win this fight."
"What?!"
Ares still didn't get it.
Loki shot him a disgusted look.
"To put it simply—she wanted Hades to waste his appearance. Once summoned, a warrior cannot be fielded again. That way, her true trump card won't have to face Hades directly."
A beat passed.
Then—
"WHAT!?!?"
It finally clicked.
Ares exploded in rage.
"That Valkyrie is absolutely despicable!"
Loki ignored him and turned back to watch the arena, eyes dark with calculation.