Level Up Legacy-Chapter 1227 Shattered Divinity

The air was charged with a tension that seemed to stretch the very fabric of reality. Arthur stood his ground, his posture relaxed yet unmistakably ready for conflict. His black hair whipped around his face, stirred by the energies that clashed around them.

"Phaneron, is it?" grinned Arthur, his voice steady and unyielding. "Your words and shape make the heart tremble, but you picked the wrong enemy. Netherborne does not fear Devaheim."

Phaneron regarded Arthur with a look that mingled sadness with an undeniable respect. "Such conviction is rare, even among gods. Yet, it is my duty to uphold the balance. Will you not reconsider your path?"

Arthur's laugh cut through the heavy air, sharp and clear. "Reconsider? I've come too far to turn back now. Let's see if your balance can withstand my resolve."

With a fluid motion, Arthur raised his dagger, its blade catching the light of the celestial entities gathered around. The energy crackled around him, dark and potent, as he prepared his next move.

"Very well," Phaneron sighed, his voice like a wind whispering through ancient trees. "Let the dance of souls commence."

The god extended his arms, and the space around them began to warp, the souls swirling faster, creating a vortex of spectral light. Arthur watched, his eyes narrowing, as the patterns shifted, forming complex arrays that pulsed with power.

Without a word, Arthur lunged forward, the ground beneath his feet cracking with the force of his step. Phaneron countered, his movements graceful yet immensely powerful, directing the swirling souls like a conductor with his orchestra.

The clash was monumental. Each strike from Arthur's dagger sent shockwaves through the battlefield, meeting the barriers of soul-light conjured by Phaneron. The god's defenses were formidable, each soul-light barrier absorbing and redirecting the energy of Arthur's attacks.

But Arthur was relentless. With each swing of his dagger, he infused his wrath deeper, calling upon thundering black lightning. The air around them shimmered with the intensity of their battle, the ground trembling under the strain of their energies.

Phaneron, observing Arthur's increasing ferocity, adjusted his tactics. With a swift motion, he gathered the soul-lights into a dense sphere, then hurled it towards Arthur. The sphere exploded on impact, releasing a torrent of souls that screamed in a chorus of ancient voices.

Arthur staggered under the assault, his clothes singed and his face marked with lines of strain. Yet, his smile never waned; it grew broader, more exhilarated. He absorbed the impact, his body seeming to drink in the power, using it to fuel his rage.

"Is this all the might of a god?" Arthur taunted, his voice booming across the now-chaotic battlefield. "Come, Phaneron! Show me the true power of the Arbiter of Souls!"

Phaneron's expression shifted, a flicker of uncertainty passing through his ancient eyes. He had not anticipated such resilience, nor such joy in the face of overwhelming power. With a nod, almost imperceptible, he conceded the need for a more direct approach.

The god descended from his position, landing a few feet away from Arthur. The ground where he touched bloomed with a soft glow, the grass beneath his feet sprouting rapidly, invigorated by his presence.

"Now, we fight as equals, Arthur Netherborne," Phaneron declared, his voice gaining an edge of determination. "May the best force prevail."

With that, began their epic battle. They moved like flashes of light, their powers clashing with a fury that threatened to tear the very sky asunder. Each exchange was a spectacle of power and precision, the outcome hanging uncertainly in the balance.

As they fought, the ground around them bore witness to their ferocity, marked by craters and scorched earth. The air vibrated with the force of their blows, the sound echoing like thunder across the landscape.

Finally, Arthur saw his opening. And his dagger screamed as he took a step back, ready to use his trump card.

Godslayer Art, First Stance – Eternal Night.

Phaneron looked surprised, perhaps the first true emotion he had shown during their battle. He caught Arthur's wrist, stopping the blade mere inches from its target. The force of their standoff created a wind that swept across the battlefield, bending trees and stirring the clouds above.

"You are indeed powerful, Arthur Netherborne," Phaneron acknowledged, his grip unyielding. "But this is not the end."

With a swift twist of his hand, Phaneron turned the tables, redirecting the energy of Arthur's attack back towards him. Arthur was thrown back, his body skidding across the ground, leaving a trench in his wake. Then, he rolled on the ground before slamming to the crater's curved walls.

Arthur clambered to his feet, brushing off the dust with a disdainful snort. His eyes, blazing like twin suns, fixed on Phaneron with a look that mixed amusement and contempt. "You are mighty, god. But I've toppled mightier."

Phaneron's brow furrowed, a ripple of irritation crossing his features at Arthur's lack of reverence. "Your arrogance blinds you, Arthur Netherborne. You do not grasp the gravity of what you challenge."

Arthur's response was a scoff, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a mocking smile. "Gravity? I think you'll find I've got a knack for defying that, too." He threw his arms wide, summoning the Gate of Wrath—a massive, swirling vortex of dark energy that crackled ominously in the air behind him.

From the depths of the gate, the wrathful souls emerged, their forms shadowy and distorted, echoes of fury and defiance. They swirled around Arthur, each one a testament to his power and his path of destruction. "Let's see how your soul dance matches up against the wrath I command," Arthur taunted, his voice a thunderous roar that rolled across the battlefield.

Phaneron regarded the assembling spectral army with a grave expression, sensing the depth of Arthur's resolve and the darkness of the power he wielded. "Then witness the true breadth of my domain, challenger." With a fluid motion, he summoned more of the ethereal lights, commanding them to form a protective cocoon around him, each soul-light intensifying the energy barrier.

The clash was imminent and inevitable. Arthur charged forward, leading his wrathful souls into the fray. The air around them thickened, charged with raw, chaotic power as the two forces collided. The impact of the wrathful souls against the soul-light barrier sent shockwaves throughout the spiritual and physical realms, distorting the air and shaking the ground.

Arthur, undeterred by the initial resistance, pressed harder, his Gate of Wrath pulsing with an ever-deepening darkness. He extended his hand, directing the wrathful souls with precise, ruthless commands, each one eager to tear through the godly defenses.

Phaneron, in turn, manipulated the soul-lights with an artistry that spoke of eons of mastery. He wove them into intricate patterns, each configuration absorbing and redirecting the energy of Arthur's assaults, turning the battlefield into a dazzling display of light and shadow.

Despite the god's formidable control, Arthur's relentless tide of wrath began to erode the barriers. With each soul that struck, the light dimmed slightly, the patterns faltering under the onslaught. Arthur's laughter, dark and resonating, filled the air as he sensed the shift.

"Come on, Phaneron! Is this all the might of an Arbiter? My wrath seems to be too much for your delicate dances." Arthur's voice was a taunt, baiting the god to reveal more of his power.

Phaneron's eyes narrowed, and with a decisive gesture, he expanded his domain, the soul-lights flaring with renewed vigor. "You underestimate the resilience of gods, Arthur. Let me show you its full strength."

The god then channeled more energy into the soul-lights, causing them to explode outwards in brilliant bursts of light, attempting to push back the dark tide. But Arthur was ready. He slammed his palm against the ground, and from the Gate of Wrath surged a wave of dark energy, bolstering his wrathful souls and intensifying their assault.

The battle escalated, with both sides unleashing power that could bend the fabric of reality itself. Arthur's wrathful souls tore through the weakening barriers, each breach a victory in his relentless advance.

As the defenses began to crumble, Arthur advanced, his figure cutting through the chaos, a dark avatar amidst the storm. He reached Phaneron, who stood defiant yet visibly wearied by the onslaught.

"Still think you can school me in power, god?" Arthur sneered, raising his dagger, its blade alight with dark fire. "Godslayer Art, Third Stance ­– Shattered Divinity!"

With a fierce cry, he thrust the dagger forward, aimed directly at Phaneron's heart, his wrathful souls swirling around them, eager for the final blow.

A blinding surge of light erupted from Phaneron. The god had shed the constraints of his seal, unveiling a torrent of divine power that shielded him from Arthur's fatal strike. The force of the unleashed energy blasted Arthur backward, his boots scraping against the ground as he struggled to maintain his stance.

Phaneron, now fully unshackled and glowing with formidable power, levitated higher, his voice thunderous as it rolled across the battlefield. "Arthur Netherborne, you have reached the terminus of your rebellion. Today, Devaheim reclaims order."