"It wasn't exactly scheming," Erwin said, his voice cutting through the cold air. "You were merely overconfident. You came here without even knowing where I was summoning you!"
The Grim Reaper's cold eyes turned to Erwin, burning with killing intent. Tendrils of black smoke drifted toward the boy like vipers.
However, before the smoke could even approach, a sudden burst of white light emanated from the white jade dragon sculpture resting beside Erwin. A sharp hiss rang out, and the black smoke was instantly forced back. The white light surged forward, pressing down on the Reaper.
Death tapped his scythe lightly on the ground. Black mist erupted from his body, forming a shield that blocked the light. Moments later, the white glow vanished.
Death glanced at the sculpture. "Is that it? In your incomplete state, this is your only reliance?"
Erwin looked at the white jade dragon beside him and chuckled. "Perhaps. What do I rely on? Come and see for yourself. You are a god—why are you afraid?"
Death remained silent, observing Erwin's expression. The boy's confidence was absolute, and that made Death hesitate. He was indeed a god, but he was not invincible. This boy was different—his bloodline radiated a power that could truly contend with the divine.
Erwin had no intention of wasting further time. He raised his wand. A spell shot straight at the Grim Reaper—like a battle cry.
Instantly, all the wizards present, including the cultivators from the Kunlun Sect, attacked. Spells and curses surged toward the Reaper.
Black mist rose before Death, absorbing every blow with ease. It seemed nothing could touch him.
But while the attacks did no damage, they ignited his fury.
"Insects! You court death!" Even the most restrained of gods was still a god. Mortals attacking a deity was an insult he could not tolerate.
Black mist swelled around the Reaper, a physical manifestation of his rage. It dispersed in all directions, crushing toward the wizards.
They gasped. Even the legendary wizards—Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Voldemort—had joined the assault, yet they couldn't scratch him. Now his counterattack was here. How could they withstand the wrath of a god?
"Erwin!" Grindelwald shouted, grim-faced. "You'd better have a backup plan. This mist isn't something to be trifled with!"
Erwin didn't answer. Instead, he looked at the Kunlun Sect Leader.
The leader nodded sharply. "Kunlun disciples! To positions! Activate the formation!"
As if rehearsed, the disciples moved instantly into their places. The Sect Leader turned to Sunny Finch. "Sunny, enter the formation. Take control."
Sunny Finch hesitated. Her? Control a formation of this scale? The black mist was closing in—there was no time to argue. She gritted her teeth and stepped into the center.
As she took her place, complex array patterns flared to life on the ground. Sunny Finch formed incantation gestures, drawing ambient magical energy into the patterns. The arrays expanded rapidly, encompassing everyone in the battle.
Just as the black mist crashed down, the array lit up with golden light, merging into walls of defense.
Erwin placed his hand on the white jade dragon sculpture. White ripples spilled onto the ground, reinforcing the golden walls.
The black mist collided with the barrier. A hiss of cancellation filled the air as the two forces neutralized each other. The golden light dimmed but was quickly replenished by the energy from the dragon statue. With a rhythmic ebb and flow, the Reaper's assault was dissipated.
Death sneered. "Annoying. The Dragon Lands are a nuisance."
Even now, he didn't take them seriously. It was merely a casual attack.
Blocking a divine strike left some wizards breathless with adrenaline. They had survived a blow from a god. But Dumbledore and the others knew the truth: the battle had only just begun.
No one noticed the shift in the air, but the next wave of attacks was already coming—and far more ferocious than the first.
No one held back. Every ounce of power was directed at the Reaper.
As the barrage flew, Sunny Finch shifted her stance within the array. The patterns on the ground flared brighter, and golden light enveloped everyone.
A sudden surge of strength filled the wizards. They felt the change instantly—an enhancement of their magical cores.
The first spell cast after the enhancement was from a member of a pure-blood family. It pierced directly through the black mist surrounding the Grim Reaper, actually grazing his robes.
The Reaper's eyes widened slightly. The sheer difference in their power shouldn't have allowed for this.
He looked down. The ground beneath his feet was glowing.
The formation... was modifying the very laws of the battlefield.
"Interesting," Death murmured, though his grip on the scythe tightened. "But do you truly think a mere array can bind a god?"
Sunny Finch, standing at the center of the magic circle, felt the immense pressure of controlling the formation. Her magical reserves were being drained rapidly, but she held firm.
"It's not about binding you," Erwin called out, stepping forward, his wand raised high. "It's about leveling the playing field."
He flicked his wand. A white beam of light shot from the dragon sculpture, hitting the golden array. The two energies fused, creating a blinding white-gold sphere of light.
"Kunlun, concentrate!" the Sect Leader roared.
The disciples poured their magic into the array. The white-gold sphere expanded, swallowing the black mist and forcing Death back a step.
Death let out a low growl. The pressure on him was increasing. He could feel the 'rules' of the world bending, making him tangible to the wizards.
"This... is not possible," Death hissed.
"We make the impossible possible," Erwin replied calmly.
He raised his wand, the tip glowing with intense, crackling energy.
"Everyone, prepare your strongest spells," Erwin commanded, his voice echoing through the minds of his allies via a silent charm. "On my signal."
The wizards raised their wands. The air crackled with raw power. Even Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Voldemort were gathering their magic, their expressions serious.
Death sensed the gathering storm. For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his ancient eyes. He gripped his scythe, the weapon pulsing with dark energy.
"Ready," Erwin whispered.
The white-gold light reached its zenith.
"Now!"
A cataclysmic roar erupted as hundreds of spells—Blasting Curses, Cutting Curses, and raw beams of energy—converged into a single, massive beam of light.
Death raised his scythe to block.
The beam struck.
For a moment, the world went silent. Then a shockwave blasted outward, shattering the ground and whipping up a storm of dust and debris.
The formation flickered violently, the golden light straining to contain the fallout.
Sunny Finch screamed, clutching her head as the strain hit her. But she didn't let the formation fall.
As the light faded, the dust settled slowly.
The Grim Reaper stood in the center of a massive crater. His robes were tattered, and a trickle of black ichor—god's blood—dripped from a cut on his arm.
He looked at the wound, then at Erwin and the others.
A terrifying silence fell over the battlefield. The Reaper slowly raised his head, his eyes no longer filled with arrogance, but with cold, murderous intent.
"You... have wounded a god," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in their chests.
Erwin didn't smile. He kept his wand raised, his eyes locked on the Reaper.
"I'll do more than wound you," Erwin said. "Today, a god falls."