The air at the center of the village was heavy.
Not because of the smoke.
Not because of the dried blood.
But because of the presence.
César took a step forward.
The enormous PigMan slowly opened his eyes.
He did not stand immediately.
He smiled.
"So… you've arrived," he growled, his deep voice distorted, as if it echoed from more than one throat. "The little goblin who dares to walk against the destiny carved by the Gods."
César did not reply.
His eyes were fixed on the fruit hovering above the altar—red like living blood, pulsing slowly, like a beating heart.
The PigMan leader—the King—rose to his feet.
He was gigantic. His body was covered in symbols carved into his flesh, monstrous crystals embedded deep within his muscles, glowing with a sickly light. The Mana surrounding him was dense, heavy, almost suffocating.
The PigMan noticed César's gaze and sneered.
"That fruit… is not for you," the PigMan King said mockingly. "It was promised. Blessed. I am the chosen one."
César exhaled slowly. A faint smile formed on his face.
"That's not for you to decide," he finally replied. "I thought a king would understand the law of strength. The strong take everything. And as far as I'm concerned—" his eyes sharpened, "—that fruit belongs to me."
His tone was openly mocking.
The PigMan roared in rage for the first time.
The ground trembled.
The Battle
The PigMan King attacked first.
Not with technique, but with absolute force.
A Mana-charged blow crashed down like a falling mountain. César leaped back just in time—the impact shattered part of the altar and sent a shockwave of debris flying outward.
César activated his Aura.
For the first time, he did not restrain it.
He gave everything.
His Aura core spun violently, feeding power into every muscle and nerve. His body glowed faintly, but the flow was stable—controlled.
"Aura…" the PigMan spat. "Something a pathetic goblin like you should never possess. No matter. I'll erase you soon enough."
He charged again.
This time, César did not retreat.
He slid forward, letting the flow of Aura guide him—reading movement, predicting intent.
Fist met claw.
The collision was brutal.
César was sent flying several meters, rolling hard across the ground before forcing himself upright. Pain flared through his body—but it was contained.
"You're strong," César admitted. "But you rely too much on what was given to you."
I may not be stronger than him, César thought calmly, but everything I have, I earned.
It felt like two players facing each other—one who had grinded every level through effort, and another who had bought a powerful account without ever learning how to use it.
The PigMan laughed angrily.
"And you don't?" he snarled.
To him, it was impossible. A goblin with Mana—let alone Aura—could only exist if backed by a God.
The PigMan King activated the monstrous crystals embedded in his body.
Mana exploded outward in chaotic waves.
His form warped slightly—muscles swelling, veins bulging, eyes glowing with madness.
"I am the future king of this land!"
César closed his eyes for a brief moment.
And focused his Aura.
He did not expand it.
He compressed it into a single point.
When he opened his eyes, he advanced.
Every step was precise.
Every movement, efficient.
He did not seek domination.
He sought to break the balance.
Dodge. Strike. Withdraw. Re-engage.
Small, relentless attacks—each aimed where the PigMan's Mana overflowed uncontrollably.
The PigMan King began to falter.
A step too slow.
A strike slightly off.
"ENOUGH!" he roared.
He gathered all of his Mana into one final attack.
César felt the danger.
And smiled.
"This ends here."
He activated his entire Aura core.
Not to defend.
But to pierce through.
The impact was deafening.
When the dust settled, the PigMan King was on his knees.
The monstrous crystals dimmed—one by one.
"Impossible…" he whispered. "The God… chose me…"
César approached calmly.
"The gods don't choose," he said coldly. "They use. And you—my friend—are no longer useful."
His tone carried quiet mockery.
With one final, precise strike, the PigMan leader fell.
Silence followed.
The Gaze
César turned toward the fruit.
The air shifted.
The world itself seemed to freeze.
A pressure descended upon his mind—not physical, but spiritual.
A voice echoed—not in his ears, but in his soul.
"Interesting…"
César did not kneel.
"So it's you," he said quietly. "The Evil God."
I'm afraid, he admitted inwardly, but not enough to show it.
He trusted his instinct—the same one that told him this God would hesitate. Just like the PigMan King, the deity assumed César had a God backing him.
And he was right.
The presence laughed.
"That fruit was my gift. My seed. Meant for my herald."
César extended his hand toward it.
"Sorry," he said calmly. "The law of the jungle says it's mine now."
"You do not fear me," the voice whispered with interest. "Very well. I am curious which God stands behind you and grants you the courage to face me. But remember, little goblin—no matter who supports you, taking what belongs to me is never easy."
César grasped the fruit.
"I already am."
And without hesitation—
he bit into it.
The taste was overwhelming. Ancient. Intense.
Power surged through him—not wild, but deep, spreading like roots taking hold.
The Evil God fell silent.
Then spoke once more.
"Let us see… how far you go, little goblin."
The presence faded.
César remained standing, breathing steadily.
He had won.
But he knew the truth.
This
was not an ending.
It was the beginning.