Reincarnated as an SSS-Ranked Blacksmith Who Refuses to Forge Weapons-Chapter 221. The Day the Board Broke

"IF I CAN’T HAVE THIS WORLD...! I’LL FUCKING DESTROY IT AALLLLLLL!!!"

Greg’s prosthetic arm moved on its own just inches from Valthor’s divine sword.

The First Hammer’s power, which was dormant at twenty percent capacity, suddenly shot up to two hundred percent in an impossible instant. The prosthetic remained unchanged in size or length, yet the golden energy transcended the boundaries of space, defying the laws of physics and magic simultaneously.

Greg’s hand closed around the blade without any protection, catching a divine weapon that represented all war with nothing but stolen power and complete faith.

A brilliant white light illuminated the arena.

Greg didn’t know what happened next, but later, when he could think about it more clearly and deal with his trauma, he would remember standing in a white space with only Valthor and himself.

The God of War was huge and scary, and his armor was cracking because the Sphere’s exile force was spreading through divine essence like an infection through blood. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

"You...!!! YOU don’t know what you’ve FUCKING done with all of this," Valthor’s voice sounded like it had been around for a long time. "The gods keep things in order...! Everything in order for balancing this world...!"

"Without us, this world would be a fucking mess of chaos...! Without us, the world would be overrun by monsters, leading to the collapse of civilizations."

"With what you’re doing right now...! You’ve doomed everyone by choosing this path!"

"You keep your order," Greg said, his voice steady even though he was worn out. "At our expense."

"You turned us all into pieces in a game we never agreed to play, and you think we’ll just let that shit happen...!? We’re not horses; we’re humans!"

"You called my friend one less piece on your board, like he’s some kind of a chess piece that can only be used once!"

"He WAS a fucking piece!" Valthor’s rage shook the white space. "Power is making decisions about who moves forward and who gets sacrificed for the greater strategy...!"

"They’re all pieces! You’re a piece...!!!"

"EVERY HUMAN IS A PIECE ON GOD’S CHESS BOARD!!!"

"No..."

"Not anymore..."

"We’re humans, or more to be exact... mortals!"

"We get our own choices to choose and live..."

"What you’ve just said about pieces and some dumb shit like that..." Greg’s prosthetic arm got tighter around the sword, and small cracks started to form in the divine metal. "That’s what tyranny is."

"The true power lies within making things that matter... and that power is protecting people who can’t protect themselves."

"Real power is choosing peace even when starting war is a lot easier."

In his hand, the sword broke, and pieces of divine metal turned into light. The weapon, which had been around since the beginning of war, was broken by a mortal’s strong beliefs, a stolen artifact, and a dwarf’s last sacrifice.

Greg didn’t flinch when Valthor looked him in the eye and said, "And if that makes me your enemy forever?"

"That’s good; I’ll take it any day... and I’d rather be the enemy of gods than let one more person die because you needed players for your game."

The white space fell apart like a lung that had been punctured.

Reality came back into focus. Greg could only see Valthor’s sword as sparkly dust in his hand.

The God of War’s armor was breaking down in a planned way, and as the Sphere’s exile took hold of his divine essence, it began to dissolve.

Valthor looked at Greg with something that could have been respect, even though he was a high being creature that couldn’t really understand how mortals felt. "You’ll... regret this choice."

"When the other pantheons find out what you’ve done... and when you realize you needed us to get through what’s coming."

"Maybe," Greg said. "But we’ll figure it out on our own..."

"And without you using us like pieces."

Valthor let out one last curse, uttering words from a language that predated civilization, and then he was gone.

He was pulled back to the divine realm by an irresistible force and sent away. Greg’s conviction, along with Mira’s death, severed their ties to the mortal world.

Kael’thas stopped fighting when she thought Valthor’s exile was over. She looked at Greg one last time, and her divine craftsman’s nature made her admit what she was seeing.

"I still don’t know what you are." There was real curiosity in her voice, even though she was sure she was right.

"What you made yourself into by integrating instead of choosing... But I’ll remember you, Greg Greyson."

"The mortal who stole the First Hammer and turned divine power into mercy."

The sparks from her forge-fire went away without hurting anyone. "Don’t waste what you’ve won here... It’s harder to keep freedom than it is to live in tyranny."

She disappeared like smoke in the wind.

Moira was last, and she was already half-dissolved when she stopped fighting the Sphere’s pull. The Goddess of Fate gazed at the clasp on Greg’s cloak, which Bork had placed on him, and then at the location where Mira had transformed into light.

"I couldn’t read you," Moira said, her voice full of strange harmonics that were quickly becoming clearer. "And I still can’t..."

"Even now, with all my threads burning, I can’t see your future..."

"That’s never happened to me before."

Then there’s a pause. A smile-like expression crossed her porcelain face.

"Unprecedented is a positive development, suggesting that fate may not be as predetermined as previously believed."

"Maybe you were right that choice is more important than fate."

Greg could barely see her now; she was more of a suggestion than a real person. "But remember this, Greg Greyson: choice means consequence."

"You chose freedom for two hundred and forty-seven reincarnators... and they will choose what to do with that freedom..."

"Some will make good choices, and some will not. Their choices will now be your consequence."

"That’s the price of breaking divine authority."

And then she left too. For the first time in recorded history, all three gods were exiled from the mortal world.

And then... the arena was completely quiet.

The Sphere’s golden light slowly faded away, leaving the world very different from how it was before. Greg was in the middle of it all, holding Mira’s maid headband in his shaking hands.

It was the only thing left of her, and it appeared at the moment of her death as if her spirit had known he would need something real to remember her by.

His prosthetic arm was only working at five percent of its full capacity, and the stolen First Hammer power was almost gone from that last impossible reach.

His system was utterly nonfunctional. There were no alerts, no divine interface to provide guidance or rankings.

He could still forge, but he didn’t have the structure that had guided his whole second life.

He was so tired that no words could describe how worn out he was.

As the excitement of divine battle wore off, the Brotherhood’s situation became clear. Marina had three broken ribs and severe burns on her arms from the divine fire that got past her frying pan’s defenses.

She could barely stand, but she wouldn’t let anyone else heal her until they were done.

Seraphine was unconscious because she had used up so much mana that it could have caused permanent damage. Frostbite covered 40% of her body because of her own Absolute Zero Singularity technique.

She would get better, but it would be months before she could use magic again without putting her life in danger.

Elwen sat in the middle of the broken pieces of every legendary weapon her family had made over the years. The Moonwood family’s whole legacy was destroyed in minutes because Greg was more important to her than her principles.

She was fine physically, but she was mentally drained from using bloodline magic beyond what was safe.

Lylia’s body seemed to be mostly fine, but her face showed emotional pain that was worse than any wound. In a sense, Mira had been her job, representing the spirit that emerged from Greg’s love for Lylia.

She had lost something like a daughter.

Felix sat on the ground, crying as his Infinite Luck System went haywire around him. Random calls flashed in and out of existence, spiraling out of control.

Three cats in the house. A bike. Someone’s grandma’s favorite chair. He couldn’t stop it.

Donetta stayed calm and supported Felix by being there for him.

Dorin’s Divine Forgemaster System ceased to function the moment the gods were exiled, effectively cutting off divine authority.

He was now just an old dwarf with a hammer. He looked very relieved after hearing that.

The more than eighty non-combatant reincarnators stood nearby, all looking at Greg as if he should have the answers. Their systems had been cut off from God’s control, so they were free but still lost.

The power structures that had helped them in their second lives were no longer there.

Thomas Chen was at the front of the group, and his chef’s uniform was somehow still clean. "What will happen to all of us now?"

Amara Songweaver held his hand tightly. "We’re free, but what can we do?"

Priya, the healer, looked like she had just seen a ghost. "I don’t know how to live without the System telling me what to do."

Helena Ravencroft had already gone, and her army of undead had been sent home. She didn’t need closure; she just wanted to fight gods.

Marcus the Berserker was sitting by himself and looking thoughtful for the first time since Greg had met him. "What do I do if I’m not fighting for them anymore?"

"What’s the point of being strong if there’s no divine purpose?"