Chapter 173: The Final War – Gods and Mankind Collide
Azazel's voice trembled slightly, though cloaked in sarcasm:
"About the Chaos Brigade… the intelligence I've received suggests that someone among them may truly understand the existence of other worlds."
His words sucked the warmth out of the room. Eyes narrowed like blades. Even the usually gentle Michael cast a frigid glare.
Azazel raised his hands in mock surrender.
"Come on now, don't look at me like you're about to devour me. I didn't mean to keep it secret. I simply forgot to mention it earlier. I mean… the idea of other worlds felt absurd. How could I have guessed—"
"—That another world would actually invade ours?" Serafall finished, bitterly.
Azazel chuckled helplessly.
Then Serafall turned to the veiled girl. Her tone softened unexpectedly, almost teasing:
"Shephara-chan, little sister, you never explained why you believe that parallel world could stand toe-to-toe with Evis Etourute."
The sudden familiarity startled the girl. She glanced at Serafall with subtle alarm.
Her voice, when it came, held no humor.
"The Ghost God Regalzeva. The Evil God Melbazoa. The Demon God Seraselbes. Above them… stands the Primal Creator."
Everyone froze.
Irina gasped. "Please… don't tell me there's someone even above those three."
The air grew heavier still.
These three—already beyond the Dragon Gods—were terrifying enough. Now there was someone even higher? A being who created even them?
Madness.
Shephara nodded gravely.
"The Primal Creator was once the god of the parallel world. She claims that this world was hers—and she intends to reclaim it."
The implication landed with eerie clarity.
"You mean… she was driven out?"
"So that world could fight back?" Sirzechs asked.
"That… actually makes sense," Azazel murmured. Michael nodded silently.
"But what about this… 'final war between gods and mankind'? What does that mean?"
Sirzechs posed the question sharply.
Was this about humans fighting literal gods?
Could humanity be so powerful?
Or was this another ploy of the Primal Creator?
Azazel frowned. "Waging war on the pantheon? Isn't that a bit too far-fetched?"
"No… it's not exactly a war," Shephara replied. "In that world, the gods hold a grand council every millennium—The Thousand-Year Divine Assembly. And this gathering… it decides humanity's fate."
Michael interrupted, uncharacteristically stern. "You mean, extinction?"
Shephara nodded. "They grew disgusted. Centuries of war. Endless destruction. No matter how the gods guided humanity… it refused to change. Especially after modernization. Pollution. Deforestation. Broken earth. They resolved to end it—to erase humanity's civilization and make it start anew."
A heavy silence followed. Everyone contemplated the horror. Not just a punishment. Not a cleansing.
A reset.
But who gave the gods such authority?
To decide the fate of an entire species?
A voice emerged: Serafall, bitter and indignant.
"And in 20XX—during that council—they all voted to end the current human era?"
"The timing lines up," Azazel noted. "Their technological level matches ours."
"And yet," Shephara continued, "A woman interrupted the vote. Not a full god—but a demigod. A Valkyrie from Norse myth: Brunhild."
The name drew murmurs. Brunhild—her legend was known even in this world.
"She protested the decision," Shephara explained. "She said that ending humanity like this was not only unjust—it was dull. According to a clause in the Divine Codex—meant as a joke—it's said that if humanity could pass a divine trial, they would earn another thousand years."
Azazel blinked. "A joke clause?"
"A trial?" Michael asked quietly.
"The Final Battle," Shephara said. "Mankind versus the gods. A tournament held in a divine arena. Thirteen representatives from each side. If humanity could win seven matches, they'd survive."
"And if they lost?" Sirzechs asked.
Shephara's tone darkened. "Then extinction would be absolute."
It sounded like madness. A game, cruel and arbitrary. But it was the gods' decree.
Serafall sneered.
"So Brunhild delayed humanity's destruction—just to put on a show? That's twisted."
Azazel leaned back, thoughtful.
"Maybe not. Maybe she orchestrated a fix. A way to save humanity through rigged matches."
Michael frowned. "You suspect the gods agreed to play along? That's unlikely."
Azazel shrugged. "You know how gods vote. Some abstain to avoid conflict. Others cast votes just to blend in. Maybe this plan gave dissenters a loophole."
"Brunhild meant well," Shephara affirmed. "She took responsibility. She selected thirteen human champions from all of history."
"Wait!" Azazel interrupted. "From all of human history?"
Shephara nodded.
"That means… even the dead can be revived to fight?"
"Yes. Using the Akasha System. Historical figures can be summoned to participate."
Azazel's jaw tightened. "How many?"
"I don't know the upper limit," Shephara admitted. "But in each match, tens of thousands of observers—chosen from the fighter's era—are resurrected to witness the battle."
"Tens of thousands? Revived like that?" Sirzechs echoed.
Azazel leaned forward.
"The Akasha System can violate death itself? Even for gods?"
"Yes. Though once a warrior falls in this tournament, they die for good. No resurrection. Not even time magic can undo it. It becomes fixed in causality."
"And how do they trust the system?" Azazel pressed. "Couldn't Brunhild tamper with the data?"
"Not likely. That system doesn't rely on records. It allows divine travelers to see the past firsthand. Witness any moment in history. They cannot interfere—but the most powerful gods can bend the rules… perhaps even touch the past."
Azazel's eyes gleamed.
Sirzechs interjected. "Enough, Azazel."
Azazel chuckled. "Fine. But that system's absolutely broken. How did they create it?"
Shephara's answer was silence. Even she didn't seem to understand it fully.
Azazel glanced her way. "When you fled—had the tournament already started?"
She nodded.
"Five matches had taken place," she said solemnly.
"And?"
"All five—decisive. One side lost every time."
Everyone went still.
Azazel's brow furrowed. "Which side?"
"The gods," she replied.
Azazel blinked. "Wait… you mean humanity won all five?"
"The first match," she began. "Thor, god of thunder, high-level chief deity."
"He was chosen first?"
She nodded.
Azazel sipped his tea. Calm. Until—
"The result?" he asked casually.
"Thor… was slain."
Azazel sputtered. Tea sprayed.
"What?!"
"Defeated," Shephara said quietly. "By humanity's first champion."
"And the second match?" Michael asked.
"Beelzebub. Chief god level. Slain."
Shock rippled through the chamber.
"The third? The Seven Lucky Gods. Though in that world they merged into a singular figure—Zero Luck. Also chief god level. Slain."
"Fourth?" Serafall whispered.
"Hades. Beyond chief god. A Super-Deity."
Everyone flinched.
"Hades? Slain?"
"He was reportedly on par with the first member of Rahu's Seven Shadows."
Silence. That made Hades comparable to the strongest dragon gods—those who could rival Ophis and Great Red.
Even a being of that caliber… had fallen.
Sirzechs leaned in. "And the fifth match?"
Shephara hesitated.
"Loki. Barely qualifies as a chief god."
Azazel raised a brow.
"Loki? The god of mischief? Why send him after losing four titans?"
"The fifth was nearly as perilous as the second," Shephara replied. "Perhaps they underestimated the champion. Or perhaps… the gods are faltering."
The room fell quiet. One thought hovered, unspoken:
If humans could slay such gods… what kind of champions were summoned?