The speed wasn't fast—
As the figure charged toward him, this thought flashed through Mars' mind.
The speed seemed no different from before.
Yet, he couldn't dodge.
The technique didn't seem sophisticated—
When the opponent made their move, Mars' expression twitched, and he raised his hand to block.
Or rather, the opponent wasn't using any technique at all.
Yet, he couldn't defend.
The force wasn't strong—
When the opponent's palm struck his head, Mars made his judgment.
It was the same strength as the body had shown before.
But his helmet crumpled in an instant.
"Arghhh!"
The Heretic Mars let out an unwilling, despairing howl, barely managing to tilt his head to avoid having it split open by a single hand chop.
Thus, Lucius (Mozlis) let their hand fall, grabbing his shoulder and casually snapping it off.
The movement was relaxed and leisurely, like plucking ripe corn from a field.
He had lost.
This realization consumed the Heretic Mars' thoughts.
Even before the fight began, he had sensed it. But now, the thought was crystal clear.
Not because the opponent possessed overwhelming power.
Not because the opponent used intricate techniques.
Not because the opponent had unmatched speed.
Simply because, from the start, the opponent was destined to win.
Simply because the opponent had already declared themselves the stronger.
Even though they were merely channeling a fragment of their consciousness into another's body, the dimensional gap remained unchanged.
The opponent was an enemy far beyond him, one he could never defeat—this realization—
He refused to accept it!
The war god Mars, now missing an arm without any resistance, roared and unleashed his Authority.
"I am the war god! The embodiment of conflict, the victor in battle! Like war, like calamity, I am the intangible storm, sweeping across the earth in an instant!"
The Authority of divine speed allowed him to transform into a tempest, granting him transcendent velocity.
Though Mars was a war god, ancient tales also regarded him as a storm god, capable of stirring fierce winds and overturning the skies.
Such scenes, like intense battles, inspired fear in all who witnessed them.
Thanks to these legends, Mars could move as a swift tempest.
But—
The intangible wind was caught.
If Mars, transformed into a storm, could show an expression, it would surely be a fascinating one.
The wind trembled faintly.
The figure with a single golden vertical pupil lightly raised an arm, grasping at the air.
No, it wasn't the wind itself that was seized, but something even more ethereal.
Compared to that, the wind was practically tangible.
Yet, the Heretic Mars couldn't comprehend what had been grasped.
"Boring." A trace of weariness crossed Lucius (Mozlis)' face.
Then, they slowly moved to crush whatever was in their hand.
"Arghhh!" In an instant, from body to soul, the entity known as the Heretic Mars couldn't help but wail.
He understood.
He understood what had been seized, what was about to be crushed by that seemingly weak hand.
It was "Mars."
The opponent had merely glanced at him with impatience, then casually reached out and grasped the entirety of "Mars" in their hand.
The action was as effortless as deleting a name from a document.
But Mars knew that with a single squeeze, he might cease to exist forever.
Even though their power levels were worlds apart.
Mars still chose to resist—it was all he could do.
"I am war! Wherever I tread, corpses shall litter the ground, and blood shall flow! For I—"
Mars chanted his Words of Power again, unleashing his Authority with full force.
But it was futile.
Though he appeared to have transformed into a massive storm, in truth, he was already trapped within that single grasp.
The Authority he once flaunted was utterly ineffective.
Because his opponent wasn't even in the same dimension.
To crush "Mars" At the conceptual level.
If that happened, no Heretic God named Mars would ever appear again in this world, and even in mythology, traces of the war god would gradually fade.
Killing a Heretic God of this world with a concept was, in a sense, a true cross-dimensional attack.
All of Mars' struggles and defenses were meaningless.
Because Lucius (Mozlis)' current method was like tossing a two-dimensional foil capable of dimensional collapse while the opponent layered on more armor.
Lucius (Mozlis) felt no strangeness in using an anti-aircraft cannon to swat a mosquito, for in their eyes, a cannon and a mosquito coil were no different.
"Roarrr!"
The war god despaired.
This was an attack he couldn't predict, comprehend, or resist.
The only thing he could do was unleash all his power, hoping to inflict even the slightest harm on his opponent.
But even that was impossible.
Because whether it was "Mars' divine power" Or "Mars' attack," everything tied to the concept of "Mars" was casually held in that hand.
All of it was about to be crushed by that hand.
Mars drained every ounce of his divine power, launching frenzied attacks at his enemy.
His sword, pushed beyond its limits, shattered inch by inch.
But he didn't care. When the sword broke, he gritted his teeth and swung his fists, even as his body began to disintegrate under the strain.
The glow of divine power enveloped him, dazzling and radiant.
But it was all for naught.
His opponent merely glanced at him with a look of boredom and a hint of "Still not dead?"
Then, their fingers twitched, about to close.
"Arghhh!" Sensing the greatest crisis of his existence, Mars pushed beyond his limits, continuing his relentless assault.
Then, he felt it—"Mars" was released.
Had he succeeded?
The Heretic Mars was overjoyed, his blood-streaked face, torn from disintegrating muscles, twisting into a savage grin.
In this ecstasy, Mars' power surged to new heights. Locking onto his enemy, he swung a fist with nearly all his strength!
Golden divine light cloaked him, like a blazing sun, outshining even the sky's own star.
And then—
His head was casually plucked off.
***
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