The Strongest Body Customization System-Chapter 106: The Grand God of Destruction

After the test, Suelo looked at Ian with a strange smile.

"You gave up something very dear," he said. "Not many can do that. You are not just strong. You are worthy."

Ian stood still. He had forgotten Kate and Liz, but he felt a warm pain in his chest, like a song he couldn’t remember.

Suelo raised his hand.

"I now name you Grand God of Destruction. You hold power equal to the Grand Devil. None may stand above you but the One Above All."

A flash of light wrapped around Ian. His body glowed. A strange new mark burned on his hand, red and black, shaped like a sun with sharp ends.

From that moment, the stars knew his name.

Far away, in the halls of the high gods...

A group of gods sat around a long gold table. They wore long white robes and golden crowns. Their names were feared across many worlds.

"He’s back," one god said.

"Ian?" another asked. "That boy?"

"No," a tall god said, slamming the table. "That monster! He now holds the power of Destruction!"

"That’s not possible," another god scoffed. "Only the Grand Devil..."

"Not anymore," a voice said at the door.

The gods turned.

There stood Ian.

He had no crown, no robe, just a plain black coat. But when he walked, the room shook.

The tall god who had slammed the table stood up. "You dare enter this place?"

Ian walked up to him, slow and calm.

"I came to talk," he said.

"We don’t speak to monsters," the tall god snapped. "Leave!"

One of the younger gods laughed. "Why don’t you go back to wherever you crawled out of?"

Ian’s eyes turned cold. "Funny. You speak so loud for someone so weak."

The room fell silent.

The tall god stepped forward, his voice full of pride. "Do you think we fear you? We are the high gods!"

Ian raised one hand.

Just one hand.

With no sound, the tall god flew backward like a bug, crashing into the wall. He coughed blood and fell to his knees.

The young god who laughed stood frozen, face pale.

Ian looked at him. "Still think it’s funny?"

The young god dropped to the floor, shaking.

The other gods jumped to their feet. "You dare attack one of us in this holy place?"

Ian turned to them. "You dare act holy while you sit on thrones and watch people die?"

No one spoke.

Ian walked to the middle of the room and stood still.

"I am the Grand God of Destruction now. My power is not a gift. It is earned through blood, pain, and loss. You think your crowns make you strong? I could crush you all... but I won’t. Not yet."

He looked at each of them.

"But the next time you speak my name with shame, I will remind you why even the Grand Devil stays quiet."

With that, he turned and walked away.

The tall god still lay on the ground, eyes wide, unable to move.

The faces of the high gods burned red with shame. None dared to follow him.

They had mocked him once.

Now, they feared him.

The name Ian spread across the God Realm once again.

But now, it came with a new title:

The One Who Walks Beside Destruction.

...

A few days later...

Ian walked through the town near the edge of the Blood Empire. He had no armor, no crown, just a simple shirt and pants. People did not know who he was. He liked it that way.

He stopped by a small food shop.

"Can I get some bread?" he asked the old man behind the counter.

The old man smiled. "Yes, young man. That will be one coin."

Ian gave him a gold coin.

"Too much!" the old man said.

"Keep it," Ian said. "You work hard."

The man smiled wide. "Thank you, kind one."

As Ian sat on a bench and ate, a group of young men walked by. They laughed loud and pushed people out of the way.

One of them looked at Ian and said, "Hey! You’re in my spot."

Ian looked up. "This is a bench. It belongs to no one."

The young man frowned. "Do you know who I am? My father is a high guard! Get lost!"

The people nearby watched. They knew the young man was a bully. No one liked him, but no one dared to speak.

Ian stayed seated. "Sit somewhere else."

The young man grabbed Ian’s shirt. "You asked for it!"

He raised his hand to hit Ian.

But he never got the chance.

Ian grabbed his wrist with two fingers.

The young man’s face turned white. He dropped to his knees, crying out.

"My hand! Let go!"

Ian stood up, still calm. "You think you are strong. But you are just loud."

Then he let go.

The young man fell to the ground, shaking. His friends helped him up, faces full of fear.

"Let’s go!" one of them said. "This guy is not normal!"

They ran away.

The crowd was quiet... then someone clapped.

Others followed.

"Thank you!" an old woman said. "They always hurt people!"

Ian smiled a little. "Bullies fall fast when they meet someone who fights back."

The old man from the shop walked over. "Who are you, really?"

Ian looked up at the sky.

"Just a man who wants a quiet life... but won’t look away when people need help."

He walked off down the road, bread in hand, a soft wind blowing around him.

Behind him, people smiled.

"Ian!" Barseagle shouted. "Come! Sit! We were just talking about the old days."

Ian smiled. "It’s been too long."

They sat by a tree. The Grand Elder poured warm tea. Barseagle bit into some meat.

"You know," Barseagle said, "I like this life. No war. No orders. Just food, talk, and peace."

"You worked hard for it," the Grand Elder said.

Just then, a loud voice came from down the road.

"You there! Move your big body from my path!"

They looked up.

A young man in rich red clothes rode a white horse. Gold rings on his fingers. A small group stood behind him.

"I said move!" the young man shouted, pointing at Barseagle.

Barseagle stood, still calm. "This is a free path. You can go around."

The young man laughed. "Do you know who I am? I am from the Peng Clan! My father owns this land! If you don’t move now, I’ll break your legs!"

Barseagle stepped forward, still holding his meat.

"I fought in five wars," he said. "I led men into fire and storm. I’ve looked at leaders of Dark Races in the eye. And you think I’ll move because a boy shouts at me?"

The young man turned red with rage. "How dare you!"

He jumped from his horse and threw a punch.

Bad idea.

Barseagle didn’t even blink. With one hand, he caught the punch.

Then, with a loud SMACK, he slapped the boy right across the face.

The sound echoed.

The boy fell to the ground, holding his cheek.

"Y-You hit me?!"

Barseagle cracked his neck. "No. I woke you up."

The boy looked at his men, but none moved.

The Grand Elder stood up. "Tell your father to raise a better son."

The boy ran, red in the face, his pride broken. "You’ll regret this!"

The whole field was quiet.

Then Ian smiled. "Still strong, I see."

Barseagle laughed, sitting down again. "These hands may rest... but they never forget."

The three of them drank tea as the sun went down.

Peace was good.

But a good slap made it better.

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