Ex rank talent Awakening: 100\% Dodge rate-Chapter 179 - : GOD VS TITAN II

Greg dashed towards Zenith at full speed, the world blurring past him as he focused solely on the towering titan ahead. Zenith, sensing the approach, raised his foot high with an air of disdain. Like a god squashing an insect, he brought his foot down with monstrous force, aiming to crush Greg into a splatter of mangled flesh.

But to Zenith's surprise, the ground never met his sole. A powerful, invisible force repelled his stomp, causing a ripple of shock to spread through his colossal frame. Something—no, someone—was resisting him. Greg, unfazed and seizing the moment, leapt onto Zenith's massive foot. With speed honed through countless battles, he sprinted upward, racing past the armored ankle and climbing swiftly to Zenith's knee.

Then, the weight of gravity fought back. Greg felt the pull slowing him down, but he didn't falter. Reaching into his inventory mid-motion, he retrieved a dagger and flung it with deadly precision into Zenith's thigh. The blade embedded deep, its hilt vibrating from the impact. Greg used the dagger as a foothold and sprang upward, scaling the behemoth further.

Reaching his waist, Greg pulled out a sandworm whip, its surface rough with preserved desert hide. With a practiced flick, he lashed the whip around the dagger still stuck in Zenith's thigh. The whip tightened like a serpent coiling around prey. Then, using the makeshift swing, Greg propelled himself higher, his body soaring through the air until he reached Zenith's chest plate. The whip loosened from the dagger but remained in Greg's grip, dangling with potential.

Twisting midair, Greg drew another dagger and launched it towards Zenith's neck. It hit its mark, lodging itself firmly between the cracks of the titan's armor. Without hesitation, Greg wrapped the whip around this new dagger, and again he swung upward—this time close enough to meet the fury burning in Zenith's eyes.

The giant growled in visible irritation. With a flick of his arm, Zenith tried to swat Greg like an annoying fly. But Greg twisted his body midair, narrowly slipping through the gaps between Zenith's massive fingers. His concept activated subtly, enhancing his mobility and awareness just enough to make the impossible feasible.

Greg landed gracefully on the back of Zenith's hand, using it as a springboard to leap again, this time reaching the crown of the titan's head. With a commanding gesture, he summoned Heaven's Defier—the weapon dissolving from its dormant tattoo form on his skin into a blazing greatsword. Gripping its hilt tightly, Greg brought it down in a fierce stab, piercing through Zenith's helmet and drawing a thin trail of ichor from the titan's scalp.

But for all the grandeur of the move, the result was... underwhelming.

To Zenith, the attack was a mere prick, more annoyance than injury. Snarling in frustration, he shook his head violently, trying to fling Greg off. The motion sent tremors through the air, and Greg, unable to keep his footing, lost his hold on Heaven's Defier as it was dislodged from Zenith's flesh.

He tumbled, falling helplessly through the air. His concept offered no salvation this time—there was no direct attack to trigger its defense. With a resigned sigh, Greg muttered, "Guess I was being stubborn."

Wings burst from his back in a dramatic flare, halting his fall and allowing him to hover. He grinned, brushing some wind-tossed hair from his eyes. "Phew. Guess I can't defeat you without wings." He smirked. "That's one star down out of three. Welp, I'll just have to make do with two stars."

Zenith narrowed his eyes, confused at first by Greg's strange declaration—until the insult clicked. His face twisted in rage.

"You!" Zenith bellowed, veins bulging as fury surged through his titanic frame. He realized it then—Greg wasn't fighting for survival. He wasn't giving his all. He was playing. Playing as if this life-or-death battle were nothing more than a game.

With a roar that shook the sky, Zenith swung his spear, spinning it wildly. The enormous weapon sliced through the air, a blur of death meant to obliterate Greg in one blow. But the spear was far too large, its sweeping arcs unable to pin down the nimble human flitting like a leaf in a storm. Greg's unknown cheat-like concept made him impossible to catch.

From the audience, frustration boiled over.

"What is Zenith doing? Is he going easy on that ant on purpose?" one titan in the spectator stands shouted, veins throbbing on his temple.

"Zenith! Crush the ant already!" he bellowed, earning roars of agreement.

"Yeah! Kill him already!"

The crowd's cries merged into a wave of derision and expectation, none of them aware of the mounting frustration inside Zenith. He wasn't going easy. He just couldn't win. And that terrified him.

"This won't do," Greg muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing as he hovered out of spear reach. "They still think I'm no threat. If I want to turn them into obedient followers... I have to show overwhelming might. Enough to make them forget even the thought of mocking me."

His gaze sharpened as he called out in his mind, "System, I wish to purchase stats."

It was time to unleash his sister's talent.

Meanwhile...

"So how do we prepare for the demon wave?" Odin asked, breaking the silence as he leaned forward, eyes on Dual Blade and Gold Goblin. The three guild masters of what were once the six founding guilds sat around a circular table, each burdened by the weight of decisions left unmade. Greg, the one who once united them, was now in the demon realm with Annabelle and Kate—taken by a hidden family whose motives remained unknown.

"This sucks," Aaron muttered, massaging his temples. "Managing a guild sucks. Greg's vision... it's lost now. At this point, we might as well dissolve the guild—like Greg and Annabelle did."

"I know, right?" Will grumbled in agreement.

Aaron arched a brow. "Why are you grumbling? You're the richest man alive. Shouldn't this be easy for you?"

Will laughed with a wistful shrug. "Sometimes I hang out with you guys and forget I used to be rich and useful to society. These days, I feel more like the thief I used to be."

Aaron smirked. "Hey, at least you admit it."

"Enough," Dual Blade interjected, tone flat. "We're here to discuss the demon wave, not reminisce about past crimes."

"Oh, my bad. Didn't see Mr. Straightface still breathing." Will leaned back lazily, then turned serious. "But actually—I've been thinking. This whole guild business? It's not working. Greg was always confident, sometimes too much for his own good. Maybe forming all these separate guilds was one of those overconfident moves."

He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "So here's what I'm suggesting. Let's drop all this baggage. We dissolve everything and build one small, elite guild. Just the best of the best—me, you, Annabelle, Greg, Dr. Ezekiel. No more structure. Just power."

Aaron nodded slowly, clearly on board with the idea. But Thomas—Dual Blade—remained unmoved.

"Yeah, yeah, we know you hate the plan," Aaron said with a sigh. "We all know about your one-sided rivalry with Greg. It's not healthy, man."

Thomas didn't reply.

"But you can't deny we'd be better if we worked together again. Just us—no politics, no logistics. Just strength."

Will grinned. "Think about it. A new guild. One with legends at its core."