"Authority... wavering?"
Cul's snake pupils trembled violently.
These two words pierced precisely into the reality he least wanted to face.
Peter stood atop the head of the Susanoo Buddha, arms crossed over his chest, looking down at the battered giant serpent before him.
His voice was not loud, but amplified by the energy of the Susanoo, it was clear enough to reach every corner within dozens of miles.
"You yourself are actually clearer on this than anyone else."
"Having been sealed for thousands of years, although your godhood remains, your will, energy, spirit, and even combat instincts have long since fully degenerated."
"As you are now, you have grown so old that you cannot even maintain your own godhood!"
In all fairness, if Peter were facing the Cul from thousands of years ago, before he was sealed, he would never have won so easily.
He might even have witnessed what true fear was, and might have truly faced the prospect of being beaten to death by Cul.
But now.
Cul was simply too old.
So old that he no longer had the spirit to make a comeback.
It was like Jordan's second comeback; although he was still hailed as the God of Basketball and still had the determination to dominate the basketball world.
However, the decline in physical stamina and the changes in the environment were real.
He might still be an unattainable god of the past in the eyes of ordinary role players, but in front of stars who were younger and in their prime, he was no longer an obstacle.
According to Peter's estimation, although Cul's status as a deity was higher than Hela's, if the two were to clash head-on.
Hela would definitely be the one laughing at the end.
"Shut up!!!"
Cul's roar turned into a tangible shockwave, causing the surrounding ruins to collapse even further.
The giant serpent's battered body arched again, and within its wide-open maw, a ball of dark green energy condensed frantically.
But this time, the volume of that energy ball was significantly smaller than before.
The diameter, which was originally nearly a hundred meters, was now barely over fifty meters.
Cul himself noticed this, and a barely perceptible panic flashed through his vertical pupils.
But he had no time to hesitate.
The energy ball whistled out, carrying his remaining rage straight toward the Susanoo Buddha.
Peter didn't even bother to mobilize the Senju.
The Susanoo Buddha simply swatted it away with one hand.
Boom!
That energy ball was swatted away, flying up to an altitude of over a thousand meters before exploding with a bang.
It failed to pose even the slightest threat to anyone present.
The global audience was silent for half a second, then erupted into thunderous cheers.
As for Cul himself, he was completely stunned.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something more.
But Peter interrupted him:
"Cul, admit it, you have long since lost the dignity of a God King."
"Odin, who personally sealed you away back then, can now only rely on the Odin Sleep to struggle on the verge of death, let alone you, a former God King."
"As you are now, you are nothing but a remnant of the old era who refuses to accept your own failure."
A remnant of the old era.
These six words fell into Cul's ears, heavier than any physical attack.
The giant serpent's body began to tremble violently; several of the wounds that had been slowly healing now burst open again, and golden divine blood poured out once more.
"No... impossible..."
The serpent's head drooped, and the rage in those vertical pupils was being replaced by another, deeper emotion.
Peter saw it.
Fear.
The God of Fear had truly felt fear for the first time.
Not the pressure from the outside, but the fear of his own aging and being abandoned by the era.
Peter gazed at Cul from afar, the fighting intent in his eyes gradually fading.
To be honest, having fought to this point, he felt no ripples in his heart.
No matter how much the giant serpent before him bared its fangs and brandished its claws, in his eyes, it was just a trapped beast making its final struggle.
Thus, Peter, The Arbiter, delivered the final verdict:
"If you still refuse to accept your fate as a loser—"
"Within ten breaths, you will die here."
Ten breaths.
Four words, tossed out lightly.
But to the ears of the global audience, they were as heavy as a mountain.
It was not a wild statement.
Nor was it a threat.
Given the strength Peter had displayed, this was merely stating a fact.
In front of the global projections, countless people's breathing involuntarily grew heavier.
"Ten breaths?"
A hoarse laugh erupted from Cul's snake mouth, and his eyes suddenly turned fierce:
"Who do you think you are? A mere mortal of Midgard, daring to utter such wild words before me?"
As he spoke, he raised his serpent head again, struggling to maintain a majestic posture.
But those wounds still oozing blood, that segment of his serpent tail that had stopped twitching after being severed, those scales that had clearly dimmed by several shades—
None of these could hide his inner weakness.
To this, Peter couldn't be bothered to respond, simply taking something out from his storage ring.
It was an octagonal bamboo-jointed steel whip, primarily gold and red, covered with mysterious runes.
It was the divine artifact Peter had prepared for the current decisive battle—the god-beating whip.
The moment the god-beating whip revealed its true form, a low hiss escaped Cul's snake mouth.
The serpent tail, already missing a section, rubbed unconsciously back and forth on the ground—a sign of his anxious state.
He did not recognize this weapon.
But the aura emanating from that whip caused his godhood to have an instinctive repulsion.
That feeling was hard to describe.
It was like... a natural nemesis?!
"You think I would fear you?"
Cul spoke, attempting to say something to alleviate this anxious mood:
"I am the God of Fear! I am eternal! No power can kill me! No one can judge me; as long as fear exists, I am immortal!"
He roared almost maniacally, yet his voice carried a hint of trembling involuntarily.
His words were less of an oath and more of self-hypnosis.
Seeing this, Peter shook his head slightly, while counting down:
"Ten."
As he spoke, he tossed the god-beating whip into the air.
The moment the whip left his hand, the runes on it lit up simultaneously.
"Nine."
The gold and red light expanded rapidly in mid-air, and the three-foot-long whip body began to stretch and expand in a way that defied common sense.
"Eight."
Ten meters. Fifty meters. One hundred meters.
"Seven."
The whip body was still growing wildly.
Two hundred meters. Five hundred meters. One thousand meters!
When Peter counted down to "Five."
That god-beating whip, which had originally been only three feet long, had turned into a gigantic divine artifact spanning the sky.
Each bamboo-joint section was as large as a building, the golden chains were as thick as bridge pillars, and the runes on them rotated slowly in the air, releasing a pressure that made one's scalp tingle.
The Susanoo Buddha extended its right hand, closed its five fingers, grasped the god-beating whip firmly, and pointed the whip toward Cul.
At this moment, the global audience held their breath, and everyone realized one fact.
The next strike would directly determine the outcome of this war!
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