Chapter 252: [Ragnarök] Eighth Round, Humanity's Turn!
Naturally, creating a powerful deity must be under his control, right?
Otherwise, all his efforts would have essentially paved the way for someone else, since he still needed to transform this deity into the core god of his own pantheon.
Therefore, the human he selected had to be chosen from childhood.
To ensure proper fusion with the divine spark, he conducted countless experiments, sacrificing numerous infants before finally achieving one success.
Moreover, the implanted divine spark had long been tampered with by him.
When this faith-based deity was fully realized, he would replace it by implanting his own soul.
It must be said that the human child he selected exceeded his expectations, becoming a king of humanity with significant influence over human history.
This allowed the Roman Pantheon to spread widely among humans.
As history progressed, humanity's faith in the Roman Pantheon gradually began to influence the pantheon itself.
For example, the chief god he had previously eliminated—through his interference in human belief—caused humans to subtly forget this chief god's existence.
Consequently, information about this chief god's former existence gradually faded from the universe, causing other pantheons to develop a sort of amnesia, slowly forgetting that the Roman Pantheon ever had such a chief god.
In its place emerged another chief god.
Thus, the power of faith was truly terrifying.
After Satan's birth, he grew even more urgent for this deity to fully form so he could take its place.
Indeed, Satan's birth clearly shared similarities with his method of creating gods.
But come to think of it, why did he also vote in favor when the gods decided to bring about humanity's end?
If humanity were destroyed, wouldn't his plans go up in flames?
Simple—he would intentionally leak information about the Primordial God's impending return. This would inevitably prevent the final judgment on humanity from being carried out.
After all, if the Primordial God were to attack, preserving humanity would be necessary—where else would they replenish their forces after the great battle?
At that point, he would step forward and declare that his pantheon would fully undertake the protection of humanity, comprehensively guiding humans in revering the gods. This way, they could better replenish divine soldiers.
Likely, few gods would contest this task with him, as guiding humanity was quite tedious—especially over the last several thousand to tens of thousands of years, the gods had grown increasingly weary of such instructional duties.
Thus, he could use this opportunity to strengthen all of humanity's faith in the Roman Pantheon.
Now, the vessel of this faith had already made him sense power far exceeding that of the original pantheon's chief god, stirring a restless urge to seize it immediately.
But it wasn't enough yet—the timing wasn't right, because the divine spark and the vessel hadn't fully merged.
If he transferred his soul now, rejection might occur, potentially reducing everything to ashes.
After all, over the years, he had conducted experiments creating other weaker faith-based deities, and failures occurred when fusion was incomplete.
Just a little more—almost there. He estimated that after one Ragnarök, it would be ready.
"Hey, Mars, what are you spacing out for? Drink up!"
As these words fell, a large hand heavily patted his shoulder, causing Mars to sigh and feign sorrow over Shiva's passing.
Yet deep within his supposedly grieving eyes, a flicker of contempt for this God of War before him surfaced.
This fellow truly didn't deserve the title of [God of War]—he was nothing but a simple-minded fool with brawn over brains.
"Sorry, I have some matters to attend to. I'll take my leave."
Ignoring this drunken fool, Mars departed from the place.
He returned to his divine realm, deep within a temple, where a figure sat—a being with hollow eyes, merely an empty shell.
No, there was still a soul, but he had erased its consciousness.
Without a soul, faith couldn't attach to it.
Could it not move? It could—commands could be issued to make it act.
Unfortunately, executing commands wasn't very smooth, much like robots in the modern human world, only capable of simple actions.
Complex commands were difficult to carry out unless it possessed consciousness and wisdom, but how could he allow such a thing?
"Just a little more, and it'll be ready."
...
Looking at the card in his hand, Renji used it.
In the next instant, a dizzying sensation washed over him, his vision shifted, and information flooded his mind, leaving him slightly stunned.
So that was it—this was another scheme of this God of War.
Back when he was suddenly erased, he had been utterly baffled. Though he knew there was a conspiracy, the specifics eluded him.
Later, he discovered collusion with the Primordial God and thought he might have exposed something, growing suspicious.
But the truth was, he had been used as experimental material.
What a pity—all his preparations had now become another's gain.
In the Akashic Records.
Brunhilde stared at the character panel before her, intending to summon this emperor in this round.
If they won this match, [Ragnarök] would be humanity's victory.
She wondered if this king would answer her summons.
With a wave of her hand, several other panels appeared—profiles of the human representatives who had fought before.
Could they truly be resurrected?
Based on some intelligence from those visitors from parallel worlds, she couldn't help but dwell on it.
King Solomon's death here, and his resurrection there?
And displaying power beyond imagination?
Could the two be connected?
Had King Solomon from here descended and resurrected over there?
If true, it meant the others might be the same.
That mysterious figure wasn't just interfering with the Primordial God here but also thwarting their schemes on the other side.
"Sister!"
Her younger sister suddenly rushed over in a panic, her expression troubled. Had something happened?
"Lord Odin... he's dead."
The news left Brunhilde stunned, taking a moment to regain her composure.
"Dead? He's dead?"
So suddenly? Hadn't he barely survived the crisis?
Could he have been assassinated?
"He wasn't assassinated. Lord Odin chose to end his own life, refusing to linger on."
This follow-up left Brunhilde speechless.
Why choose to end it now, of all times?
Would he not witness the final battle between humans and gods?
Despair? Think it's destined to be a failure?
But Odin doesn't seem like that kind of person.
Suddenly, Brunhilde's eyes widened—she had guessed a possibility!