Chapter 109: He Is More the Embodiment of Death Than Hades
Old Man of the Mountain?
"What the hell is this?"
Ares was dumbfounded. Were they really summoning some old assassin?
Using someone like this to face Lord Hades?
Did Brunhilde really look down on Lord Hades so much? Or was this old man truly extraordinary?
"So, this was your plan all along, Brunhilde!"
Loki, standing nearby, glared darkly at the Valkyrie.
Did he know something?
"What plan?"
"Brunhilde never intended to win this match."
"Huh?"
The muscular Ares still didn't quite understand.
Seeing this, Loki shot him a disdainful look.
"Simply put, she's wasting Lord Hades' appearance for nothing. Once he fights, the rules prevent him from participating in a second match, allowing her to avoid pitting her strongest trump card directly against him."
Even after this explanation, Ares still seemed confused.
"Wh—WHAT?!!"
After a delayed reaction, Ares finally exploded in rage.
This Valkyrie was truly despicable!!!
Ignoring Ares' furious outburst, Loki instead frowned and turned his gaze back to the arena.
Heimdall's attempt to summon the opponent on the spot seemed to have encountered some issues.
It was as if the summoning was proving difficult.
"Sister Hlökk..."
From the Valkyrie spectator area, Göll gazed at her sister with a troubled expression.
She had already figured out Sister Brunhilde's plan.
Since they couldn't recklessly travel directly to that era to confirm the assassin's true nature, Sister Brunhilde's solution was to summon the individual directly onto the arena stage.
If the summoned person truly was the one who had killed across time and space, and upon understanding their situation, was willing to fight for humanity—that would be the best outcome.
In that case, Sister Hlökk wouldn't need to step onto the battlefield.
However, if the summoned person wasn't the one who had slain a god across time and space, but merely a powerful human assassin willing to fight for humanity, then Sister Hlökk would have to descend and become his divine weapon.
But could they really defeat Lord Hades? No matter how you looked at it, it seemed impossible.
That would mean this battle would be lost, and if humanity perished, Sister Hlökk would die alongside them.
Yet, from Sister Brunhilde's perspective, this outcome was still acceptable—it would prevent a powerhouse like Hades from taking the stage again.
But Göll found it unbearable. Sacrificing a sister's life just to avoid pitting their trump card against someone like Lord Hades...
Then, there was a third possibility: if the summoned person wasn't the assassin who had killed across time and space, and upon being told they were to fight as humanity's representative, they couldn't bear the responsibility and refused—then Sister Hlökk could also avoid participating.
In that case, Reginleif and the corresponding human fighter would have to take the stage.
At that point, victory or defeat would be uncertain.
"Uh... what's going on here?"
The arena announcer, Heimdall, was baffled. Was the other party resisting the summoning?
Suddenly, a shadowy greatsword pierced through the air.
It was as if it had stabbed through from another dimension into this space—an utterly eerie sight that sent Heimdall, who had leaned in for a closer look, stumbling back in terror, his legs nearly giving out.
The tip of the sword had stopped just a centimeter from his throat. He could vividly feel death caressing his neck, its icy grip tightening around his heart, ready to snatch his life away at any moment.
Realizing this, he staggered backward and collapsed onto the ground.
The next second, the sword swung downward, startling Heimdall once more.
With that slash, a visible spatial rift appeared.
Then, a nauseating wave of bloodlust assaulted his senses.
"Ah—!"
Heimdall let out a soundless scream as blood gushed from the spatial wound, drenching him entirely.
To some onlookers, it seemed as though the world itself had been wounded—as though the world itself was bleeding.
This grotesque spectacle silenced the gods' side, which had been confidently cheering for their imminent victory moments earlier.
"Wh-what is happening?!"
"Space was cut open... and it's bleeding?"
"And the scent of this blood—!"
There was no way that was human blood. The aura it exuded... it was unmistakably divine blood.
What in the world was going on?
"This blood—!"
As the representative in this match, Hades' eyes sharpened.
The scent and taste of this blood—he would never mistake it—it was the blood of the Titan gods.
His pupils contracted—the opponent was about to emerge.
With a violent force, the opponent tore the spatial rift open to both sides, as if kicking a door wide open, causing a torrent of crimson blood to gush forth like a geyser.
Bathed in this shower of blood, a figure stepped out.
It was a figure clad entirely in black armor, wearing a horned skull mask.
Wielding a greatsword and a large shield adorned with a skull design, it resembled a black knight.
The moment he emerged, the spatial rift closed behind him.
In that instant, Hades caught a glimpse of the space within—collapsing and shrinking, further compressing and annihilating a pile of corpses inside.
And those corpses unmistakably belonged to the Titan gods.
"What... what is that?"
"Is that the human representative?"
"Don't be ridiculous—that eerie presence, is that even human?"
"Besides, is that how an assassin is supposed to look?"
"If Lord Hades is the embodiment of death, this guy looks even more like it."
The divine spectators stirred uneasily.
They were genuinely afraid now, considering the unexpected turns in the second and third matches.
Something must have gone wrong with humanity's summoning—that thing couldn't possibly be human.
Anyone unfamiliar with the two figures on the field, or who hadn't heard Heimdall's introduction, might mistake Hades for humanity's champion.
Meanwhile, that black skeletal knight, drenched in blood and radiating death, would seem like the gods' own reaper.