A grim reaper's phantom loomed behind him—cloaked in flowing black robes, a massive scythe clasped in skeletal hands.
With a silent sweep through empty air, the phantom's blade carved outward.
A vacuum slash—radiating an aura so terrifying it seemed to suffocate the world—cleaved straight across the sky.
The moment it was unleashed, the sheer force twisted the surrounding space. The rain of black Red Fire Cannons—dense as a storm—were sliced apart as easily as watermelons beneath a blade.
And worse—
A massive spatial rift tore open in the heavens where the slash had passed.
After releasing that catastrophic strike, the Nightblade God's figure dissolved like ink dropped into water, vanishing completely into the darkness.
Hunting in the night—this was his domain.
Having already expended most of his divine power, he could feel the lower realm's laws pressing down on him, rejecting his presence.
But he had no choice.
If he held back now, he might very well be killed by the madman before him.
And the power Ren wielded could not be ignored.
As the Nightblade God had said before, the gods desired a world shaped to their ideals—not one reduced to rubble.
The Evils of This World did not distinguish between good and evil. It devoured endlessly—life, matter, everything.
The only reason Ren still maintained the most basic distinction between ally and enemy was because part of the corrupted essence he had absorbed came from oni who had once sworn loyalty to him.
Even after being transformed into fragments of the Evils of This World, those lingering shards of will still clung to their recognition of him as their lord.
The Nightblade God was, by nature, a hunter of the dark.
When he fully merged with the night, even Ren in his blackened state—with his Mind's Eye enhanced to its utmost limit—could no longer detect him.
Deprived of a target, Ren stood where he was and roared.
A savage, furious bellow that shook the frozen landscape.
Even worse—
When his pitch-black eyes turned toward the exorcists watching from afar, it felt as though an abyss had opened and was staring back at them.
Their bodies stiffened instantly.
A bone-chilling cold crept through their limbs, as if they had been plunged into an icy tomb. Some felt their very consciousness begin to freeze.
If someone had once claimed that a gaze could kill, these proud exorcists—so revered by ordinary people—would have laughed outright.
Now?
They understood.
That was the gaze of a god of death.
And yes—it could kill.
In those dark eyes, they saw endless destruction. Endless savagery.
Some, after staring too long, were already beginning to succumb to the negative emotions emanating from the Evils of This World. To escape the overwhelming terror and despair, a few even found themselves reaching for their own weapons—tempted to end their lives by their own hands.
Fortunately for them—
Before Ren could act…
Before they had to face that crushing despair directly—
The Nightblade God struck first.
Not because he intended to save them.
On the contrary, those humans were also potential prey.
He attacked Ren at that moment simply because, while Ren's attention had shifted toward the humans, his guard had dropped slightly.
And even if it hadn't, the Nightblade God had already been searching for an opening.
Having used too much divine power, he was being continuously rejected by the world's laws.
Soon, he would face one of two outcomes:
Either be forcibly expelled back to the divine realm—
Or temporarily seal his own divine power to evade the world's rejection.
Meanwhile, Ren's aura—empowered by the Evils of This World—was still rising.
It was nearing the ceiling of this world.
SSS+.
On one side: constant suppression.
On the other: unreasonable, relentless growth.
The longer this battle dragged on, the worse it would be for him.
A massive scythe appeared soundlessly behind Ren—
Like scissors cutting open the curtain of night.
The instant Ren sensed danger, his body twisted violently—
But he was just a fraction too slow.
"Got you."
The Nightblade God's voice echoed coldly from the darkness.
"Your power has grown. Your instincts remain sharp.
But without reason—without thought—no matter how strong you are, you are nothing more than a beast."
"Night Raid: Dark Slaughter."
As he swung his scythe, the towering reaper phantom behind him mirrored the motion.
Another colossal vacuum blade erupted through the air.
The Nightblade God's scythe harvested life.
The phantom's scythe harvested the soul.
Against such an attack, regeneration meant nothing.
Even resurrection would fail.
For resurrection requires one thing above all else—
The preservation of the soul.
And this strike devoured both body and spirit.
The curved blade of the Black Night Scythe pierced straight through Ren's chest.
The impact was so violent that the earth behind him split open, forming a massive canyon.
For a heartbeat—
The Nightblade God believed it was over.
Then—
He noticed something wrong.
The phantom reaper behind him swung its scythe—
And cut through nothing.
The blade passed cleanly through Ren's body, as though slicing air.
Ordinarily, this wouldn't have surprised him. The phantom targeted souls—it did not harm the physical form.
But what stunned him was this—
There was no soul caught upon the blade.
It had harvested nothing.
There were only two explanations.
Either Ren's soul was so extraordinarily resilient that even a reaper could not sever it in one stroke—
Or—
He wasn't fully dead yet.
Before the Nightblade God could process the implications—
A black, clawed arm shot forward and grabbed his scythe.
"You monster…" The Nightblade God's voice trembled. "Your heart was completely pierced. Your chest torn wide open. And you're still not dead?!"
The owner of that arm needed no introduction.
Ren's injuries were grotesque.
The scythe had carved open a massive wound. His organs were shredded. His heart—his very core—should have been obliterated.
Any living being should have died instantly.
And yet—
He did not.
Under the writhing spread of black sludge, flesh sprouted like budding growths. The grotesque wound sealed at a horrifying pace.
Even the heart that had stopped beating—
Began to throb again, crudely patched together by the crawling darkness.
For a fleeting moment, Ren had indeed died.
And then—
He rose again.
The reaper could not claim his soul because he had never fully crossed into death.
And beyond that—
Ren was a reincarnator.
His soul, from the beginning, had been far stronger than that of an ordinary human.
The Nightblade God felt true horror now.
If even that attack could not kill him—
Then what could?
The heart and the brain were a being's vital points.
If piercing the heart failed—
Would crushing his skull work?
But there was no time to contemplate.
Though grievously wounded, Ren did not release the scythe.
Instead, he surged forward.
Like a mad beast.
The Nightblade God gritted his teeth and forced the blade deeper into Ren's chest, hoping the agony would make him loosen his grip.
Ren didn't even flinch.
Clutching the scythe tightly despite the catastrophic wound, he opened his mouth—now lined with savage, sharpened teeth—
And tore a large chunk of flesh from the Nightblade God's shoulder.
Agony exploded through the god's body.
His expression twisted violently—
But he endured it.
With a snarl, he drove a fist straight into Ren's devastatingly handsome face.
The blow sent Ren flying backward.
The Nightblade God staggered back as well, finally gaining a sliver of distance.
He stood there, right hand gripping his scythe, left hand clutching his bleeding shoulder.
His face was grim.
"You really are a beast," he muttered. "But this is the first time I've ever been pushed to such a desperate corner by one."
In the brief moment Ren had been sent flying, thick black sludge engulfed his chest entirely.
It writhed.
It mended.
By the time the Nightblade God refocused his gaze—
Ren's body was whole again.
Not merely recovered—
But radiating even greater power than before.
In contrast, the Nightblade God's condition was deteriorating.
Though he had been suppressed throughout the battle, he had not suffered true injury—
Until now.
His wounded shoulder hampered his strength.
He was a god, yes—
But he did not possess Ren's absurd regenerative ability.
And with his divine power heavily depleted, he found himself wondering—
Would he even get another chance?
And if he did—
If he crushed Ren's head—
Would that truly be enough to kill this monster?