Chapter 477: Void Brawl, Crash You to Death

The two conversed as if they were merely long-lost acquaintances exchanging pleasantries, yet the clash between them had begun long before they had even caught sight of one another.

"Click."

He drew a dagger from the sheath at his waist—a blade identical in form to the one the white-haired youth had handed to Damian of the Umbral Secret Society, though this one was larger, etched with more intricate carvings, and, consequently, held a far greater quantity of sealed consciousness within.

"You might as well stop trying to hinder me; after all, you have gone to such great lengths to prepare for my arrival, would it not be a pity if you did not even let me attempt it?"

The white-haired youth’s lips curled slightly, his words laced with an ill-timed jest. His goal was clear: to plunge this "God-Slaying" dagger into the body of the one known as the God of Light to bring his desires to fruition.

"That will not do. As the Pope of the Church of Light, I cannot allow a heretic like you to profane such a magnificent existence."

The Pope shook his head in refusal, shedding his white robes to reveal a physique of muscularity entirely at odds with his station and countenance.

"Hearing you say that is truly laughable. You know full well what He actually is, yet you still insist on guarding this so-called deity? And now I understand why the Archbishops of the Church of Light are all knights—it turns out they learned it from you."

The white-haired youth assumed a combat stance as well, speaking with casual indifference. The scene was, in truth, quite bizarre; neither man’s identity had much to do with knighthood, yet on the eve of battle, they adopted the postures of knights, which was truly baffling.

Yet the logic held: while wizards in the material world fight by distorting reality with void energy to unleash sorcery, their combat is akin to that of spellcasters.

But here, in the Void, all sorcery is reduced to pure void energy, and the struggle becomes a direct collision of the void energy each commands. For such beings, the most efficient way to channel that energy is to drive it through the exertion of their own physical forms.

"It is precisely because of what He is that I have made this choice. After all, this was entrusted to me by the God of Light Himself; how could I ever fail Him?"

With eyes narrowed, the Pope replied to the youth.

"Entrusted to you by Him personally? That is to be expected. After all, as a deity called the God of Light, the difference between Him and other gods is so vast that one might almost consider Him a different species entirely."

The white-haired youth murmured to himself, seemingly unsurprised. The Pope of the Church of Light bore a heavy burden, one placed upon him by the God of Light himself.

"Enough talk. Though we were once friends, we must now do our utmost to finish one another."

The Pope had no intention of wasting more breath. He surged toward the youth standing in the Void without hesitation. Though he held no weapon, his movement alone caused a massive, surging tide of void energy to churn through the expanse.

"Come then. One of us is destined to perish here today."

The white-haired youth stopped his banter, gripping the dagger as he met the charging Pope. Like his opponent, he made no deliberate gestures, yet his mere movement stirred vast, turbulent waves of void energy.

"Clang!"

The dagger met the Pope’s fist with the sound of grinding metal, and both were sent recoiling. As for why a fist and a dagger would produce such a result—the physical collision was but a facade; the true struggle was the clash of the void energy they commanded.

Around them, two immense torrents of void energy collided, violently devouring and crushing one another. In a wizard’s duel, the energy of the defeated is usually seized by the victor, but here, the collision resulted in "annihilation."

"Boom!"

At the moment of impact, the two tidal waves of energy collided, and in that instant, equal amounts of power were shattered. This energy slipped from their control, dissolving into the most common, pervasive essence of the Void.

"Clack!"

Retreating but a single step, the Pope lunged again, delivering a powerful elbow strike. The youth stood his ground, holding the dagger with both hands, waiting until the last moment to thrust it forward. They clashed again, the sound of iron ringing out.

The two forces, trailing their movements, tangled and strangled each other after the briefest of separations. As the massive energies ground together, vast amounts of power dissipated, and both men suffered losses in their reserves.

Neither the youth nor the Pope attempted to seize the scattered energy of the other. It was not that they did not wish to, but that they could not; this dissipated power no longer belonged to either of them. It had returned to the Void—or rather, to its original master.

Here, under the illumination of the massive orb of light known as the God of Light, they fought in the most primitive of ways. Limbs tangled, and it was clear that neither was employing any refined technique; their movements were riddled with openings, for the true battle remained the collision of those two void energies.

In the material world, the citizens of the Holy Kingdom of Light continued their lives, entirely unaware of what was transpiring in the Void—though there were, of course, exceptions.

"May Your radiance shine upon us eternally; we thank You for Your mercy and kindness..."

A priest praying piously before a statue in a small chapel lifted his head, his prayer trailing off mid-sentence. He had felt something he could not quite name.

"What is this? Why do I feel so strange?"

The priest touched his chest, looking up at the muscular statue of the God of Light, feeling a fleeting, indefinable sense of unease.

A warm, bright light flickered at his fingertips—a miracle granted by his prayers. The light dispelled his doubts, and he returned to his devotions.

Beside the altar lay a longsword, freshly polished by the blacksmith. He had just settled his family and intended to follow the Church’s teachings, heading to a neighboring kingdom to help fight the Utopian organization. Those consciousness-shattering attacks, which no mental defense could block, required the protection of divine power.

Above, the Sky Mechanical City’s void-detection systems remained completely oblivious to the massive clash occurring. The energy had caused no ripples; after the collision, it had simply blended back into the Void, neither diffusing nor vibrating.

The battle in the Void was magnificent yet silent; the scale of the collision was immense, yet the ripples it stirred were nearly impossible to perceive.

The believer’s unease was merely the result of the clashing void energy currents passing through the line of faith that connected him to his god, causing a momentary severance of that bond.

The expansion and conflict continued, and the fight between the youth and the Pope grew even stranger. The brawny Pope pinned the youth to the ground, raining fist after fist onto his face.

The youth did not dodge or parry, letting the blows land squarely. As the Pope struck, he drove his dagger toward the man’s chest. The scene resembled nothing more than a brawl between two thugs, and yet, no blood or physical damage appeared on either body, leaving one to wonder what meaning such a fight could possibly hold.

"Kiran, it seems you have truly reclaimed much of your power over these years. Your affinity for the Void was always greater than mine; I am no match for you."

Pinned beneath the Pope, the white-haired youth smiled, speaking the man’s name and admitting his inferiority.

The truth was close to this: both were losing power in the collision, and the energy they controlled dwindled. Compared to the start, less than one percent remained, and the youth’s reserves were far lower than Kiran’s. With every passing moment, his strength waned further.

"Hmph, mind your tongue. I haven't even taken it all back yet."

The Pope did not pause, continuing to hammer his fists down as he replied.

"My apologies, but I must strip those people of their protection of will. It is a necessary step on the path to my goal. I am not achieving this alone."

As the youth spoke, at the very moment his energy was about to be completely shattered by the Pope, a chain erupted from the depths of the Void, locking around his waist. A vast surge of void energy flowed through it, replenishing his reserves.

It was strange; this was clearly aid from the Utopian organization, but while this supply seemed immense in the material world, it replenished the youth’s void energy with agonizing slowness, filling only the gaps left by the Pope’s onslaught.

Yet, the difference between having and having not was everything. Even if slow, even if a drop in the bucket, the Pope had no such source of replenishment. Gradually, their power levels equalized. The youth struggled up from his suppressed position, slammed his shoulder into Kiran, and held the dagger to his throat.

"You are but one man, but behind me stand many companions with the same goals and ideals. Farewell, Kiran."

The youth increased the pressure. As he forced the Pope’s energy to the point of collapse, the dagger finally pierced the man’s skin, sinking into his flesh.

"Snap!"

"Who said I was alone?"

A hand clamped onto the dagger—it was the Pope, the blade buried in his neck. He wore an inscrutable smile, gripping the weapon tight as he spoke.

"..."

The white-haired youth said nothing, his eyes shifting toward a corner of the Void. There, a fortress suddenly emerged, hurtling toward the two entangled figures with the unstoppable, crushing momentum of a tidal wave.