Upon the back of Avant Heim—one of the strongest of the Phantasma, a colossal turtle whose shell resembles an island of rock.
Here, in the throne hall, a man with muscles as strong as stone sat upon the highest throne at the top of the stairs. He was not merely the strongest god in a general sense; he was the true strongest, the strongest in concept. The creator of the Flügel, the God of War, Artosh.
"Greetings, strongest god of this world."
A young man with long black hair, emanating an aura distinct from the gods of this world, appeared silently in the God of War's hall. He offered a bow to the eighteen-winged deity seated upon the throne.
"There is no need for such ceremony, my kin from another world."
The God of War on his throne spoke slowly, his eyes—which irresistibly brought to mind war, hatred, and the will to fight—fixed upon this being who was similar to a God-Spirit, yet fundamentally different.
"It is a pleasure to meet you."
"My dependents were also in your care."
"It was only what I should have done," replied the young man who had previously folded space into a World Bubble and KO'd a group of Flügel with a single blast of the Hellfire of the Condemner. He smiled at the strongest god of this world.
As soon as he finished speaking, the young Flügel standing below the throne—a group powerful enough to hunt down the juvenile form of a God-Spirit—fixed their gazes on the man who had thrashed them. Their eyes were so cold they would instill the feeling of death in most living creatures.
Fury.
That was the singular thought of every Flügel.
This man spoke of "caring" for them, but what he had actually done was beat them senseless and then toss them aside with a group of battle-crazed lunatics as guards.
If Jibril and Azriel hadn't been there, desperately defending them, the entire Flügel race would have been forced to type 'gg' amidst laughter and cheers.
Having endured such an ordeal, they were not pleased with this shameless bastard who used their lives as a bargaining chip to curry favor with their master.
It was safe to say that if their creator gave the order, they would not hesitate to unleash Heaven's Strike on this scoundrel once more.
Unfortunately for them, their master had no intention of killing an enemy the very moment he returned his creations.
"I am curious. You, who wish to fight me to the death, why do you make this gesture of goodwill?"
The incarnation of war, whose perception of killing intent was second to none in this world, gazed at the smiling young man. Yet, the boy's eyes looked at him as if he were prey. Artosh's voice was lazy, but it carried a pressure as immense as a mountain.
"As expected of the God of War. Your perception of hostility and the will to fight is even more terrifying than I imagined."
The young man who had just recently hammered the Flügel glanced at them before shrugging his shoulders.
Even knowing that the God of War was aware of his intentions and might strike at any moment, he remained perfectly calm.
"Because, as I am now, I am not yet strong enough to fight you to the death. So, I can only use these little tricks to buy some time."
"'Now'?"
The God of War's smile was savage and bold as he rose from his throne. His body, twice the size of a Flügel's, was filled with the beauty of raw power. The simple act of standing was enough to radiate a divine might that seemed to loom over all creation.
"You seem to have used a very interesting word."
Hearing this, the faces of the surrounding Flügel turned bloodthirsty and crazed. An aura that should only belong on a battlefield filled the space, as if the God of War's sanctuary was about to transform into a warzone.
"Of course."
The young man, who had not yet figured out how to fully replicate Artosh's power, spoke words that would have caused ninety-nine percent of gods to fly into a murderous rage.
"I feel that before long, I will be able to kill you."
"Am I to understand this as a provocation?"
At these words, the God of War's gaze became like a sword about to be unsheathed, its edge threatening to tear the heavens. The pressure radiating from his body made the surrounding air grow thick and difficult to breathe.
"Are you certain you want to kill someone who might be able to grant your wish?"
The young man, his eyes a magnificent iridescent color, looked at the eighteen-winged god. His smile was natural and bright, as if he weren't the one whose life was in danger.
"To meet an enemy who forces you to go all out, to fight with everything you have, and then to taste the flavor of defeat... is that not precisely what you have been waiting for?"
"Do you truly wish to kill me now, when I may be the one to defeat you in the future?"
Hearing this, the aura of the God of War, who sought defeat after an all-out battle, grew even sharper. If before he was a sword about to be unsheathed, now he was a divine blade already drawn. No one would doubt that he possessed the power to sunder heaven and earth.
"God from another world, where did you learn this?"
The God of War's voice fell upon the ears like a hammer striking an anvil, carrying a majestic weight that even a heavenly god would find difficult to possess.
"Is such a thing important?" the young man's faint smile never wavered. "Or rather, would you even care?"
The strongest god of this world said nothing. The visitor's meaning was already clear: he would issue a challenge in the near future. Understanding this, a thoughtful expression flickered across the God of War's rugged face.
"Indeed, it is not important."
But in the next moment, his voice became incomparably grim, and the temperature of everything in the hall plummeted.
"Can you give me some time to handle a few things first?"
Although there was a simpler way to obtain the Star Grail, he was unsure whether the Grail came first or the God-Spirits. The young man, worried that the God of War's absence might render the Grail incomplete, chuckled at the being of unrivaled power.
First, I will cleave the God of War's Divine Core, analyze its essence, and then restore it.
At that time, there would be two strongest gods in the world.
Defeating the strongest as the weakest sounds very heroic, but it is clearly unreliable.
Barring any plot armor, the only one who can kill the strongest is a being who holds a certain advantage, someone only slightly weaker than the strongest, or an existence of the same stature.
Nergal is not just the sun that has fallen into the underworld, but also a god of war, is he not?
The young man who once bore the name Nergal smiled to himself.
To take the head of the previous god as a new God of War, becoming the One True God... wouldn't that be wonderful?
"After all, gathering the power necessary to fight you will be quite difficult," he said aloud.
"To fight me?"
"Interesting. Supremely interesting!"
The God of War, who yearned for a battle where he could give his all, stared at this young man, so different from any god he had met before, and suddenly broke into a laugh.
"Is there anything you need my help with?"
Clearly, this strongest god was so eager for a worthy fight that he did not mind offering his enemy assistance.
Offer assistance?
Hearing these words, a slight smile touched the corners of the young man's lips.
"Help?"
"Before our true battle, how about a trial run?"