[“Kaelios, The God of Destiny” has been killed. Due to his bond with him, FateBreaker will now face annihilation.]
[The “God of Death” and the “Chosen One of Death” have won.]
Fwish! BOOM!
As the final announcement echoed through the system, a heavy pulse struck Alex’s chest like a blade tearing through his core.
His breath caught. His body trembled.
And for a brief second, he couldn’t move.
It wasn’t just physical pain, it was his soul.
He could feel it fracturing, like something sacred inside him was being ripped apart.
“Is it… really over?” he asked in his mind, gaze lowering as he slowly looked at the lifeless body of Kaelios, the one who had fought beside him from the beginning.
The divine being who had given him power, guidance, and even friendship, now lying broken on the ground like shattered marble.
“Kaelios… you’re gone…”
But even through that overwhelming sense of finality, even though the world itself was telling him the fight was lost, that the [Chosen Games] were over and the victors had been crowned, Alex didn’t feel sorrow.
Not yet. No grief. No fear.
Only rage, and the kind of stubborn defiance that would’ve made even gods hesitate.
“No,” he thought, his eyes narrowing sharply as the rage built up within his chest like fire spreading through his veins, “No. This isn’t over.”
His fury wasn’t loud. It wasn’t uncontrolled.
It was focused, cold, pure.
But before he could even act on it, something else began to manifest in front of his chest, something terrifying.
His crimson soul.
It pulsed faintly, shaped like a heart made from living light, visible to everyone around him and the countless who watched across the worlds.
It wasn’t a special effect. It was real.
A projection, sent out by the [Creators], as if to make an example of him.
Then, with a terrible cracking sound, that glowing heart, the very essence of Alex’s existence, shattered into millions of crimson fragments, scattering into the air like dust on the wind.
CRACK!
“GAH—!”
Pain surged through every part of him.
His body locked up as a white-hot agony seized his nerves.
He couldn’t even scream properly.
He felt himself collapsing, soul first, body second.
Time slowed as he began to fall, collapsing toward the ground, his vision flickering.
His pupils darted from side to side, catching flashes of movement, small moments burned into memory.
Lich was laughing, his bony arms raised in triumph as his [Undead Lord] stood beside him in cruel celebration.
They were mocking Alex.
His once-proud undead champion had frozen where it stood, now silent and unmoving, its head bowed in mourning.
A silent goodbye to its master.
Then he saw Nocteron.
The man was grinning like a lunatic, arms wide open as if he could catch the entire sky.
He screamed to the heavens, demanding recognition, demanding praise.
“CREATORS, I TRULY AM THE STRONGEST! BLESS ME!”
He was bathing in his own arrogance, soaking in victory like it had always belonged to him.
And finally… Alex’s gaze landed on Kaelios once more.
That was the moment it hit him harder than any attack could.
The body of the god who had fought by his side, who had chosen him, was cold and still.
His divine aura had vanished completely.
There was no resurrection for gods, not when they were slain in these games.
“…I’m sorry…” Alex whispered internally, watching his fallen partner, “I wasn’t fast enough…”
He blamed himself, but as his mind faded and his soul disintegrated, he tried to push that guilt away.
They had fought together. They had grown together.
From training, to bloodshed, to betrayal and victory, they had made it this far.
But now, Kaelios was gone, and Alex was next.
Because the rule was absolute.
If your god dies, your soul dies with them.
There were no exceptions.
The system didn’t lie. Everyone knew it.
It had happened before, countless times, to Chosen Ones who lost their gods.
Annihilation of the soul. Not even death, erasure.
This was the end.
And yet… He couldn’t accept it.
As pathetic as it felt to still hold onto hope after losing everything, he couldn’t let it end like this.
He couldn’t bear the thought that they were watching him fall.
That she was watching.
That they’d all think this was his limit.
He couldn’t fall. Not like this. His soul was gone. He was dying.
And still, he refused.
From deep within the fading depths of his broken body, something pulsed.
A soft sound echoed in his ears.
A new panel flickered in front of his fading vision.
[Your “Determination” reacted to your current status.]
[All of your veins flow with the power of determination, refusing to yield to any of these beings, not until the job is done, at least.]
His dim eyes widened.
“…Wow…”
Meanwhile, chaos had erupted across the twenty-five connected worlds.
Earth was flooded with arguments, speculation, and fear.
“I voted for the God of Death! Hell yeah!”
“You idiot, that guy’s gonna kill us all now!”
“At least Kaelios and FateBreaker didn’t win, bro. They were dangerous too.”
“I don’t know about that, man… something feels off.”
On every world, every nation, every race, the discussion had taken over.
People argued over who should’ve won.
Who was right. Who was wrong.
But it didn’t matter anymore.
They had seen Alex’s soul shatter.
They had seen the pain on his face.
The panel had already declared the [Chosen Games] over.
Nocteron and Lich were the winners. FateBreaker was gone.
All that remained was seeing what kind of hell those two would unleash.
Billions of eyes turned back to the screens.
…
Far beyond, in the [Creator Realm], the divine beings who ran the games sat on their thrones.
“So that’s it?” the red-eyed Creator said, leaning back with four muscular arms crossed, “Heh. Guess it was fun while it lasted.”
“I liked Nocteron’s arc,” the green-eyed woman nodded, “Though the final battle was shorter than I expected.”
“Too one-sided,” said the blue-eyed Creator, “Still… I liked watching Alex. He had something special.”
“He died because he was bound to Kaelios,” the crimson one chuckled, “Tragic. But fair.”
They began to discuss what parts they liked most about the event, casually chatting like it was a sport.
But then… Vexum, the quietest of them all, spoke.
“Is it really over?” he asked, dark eyes scanning the screen.
“What are you talking about?” the red-eyed one tilted his head.
“Alex faced annihilation,” the green one replied, “Kaelios is dead. There’s nothing left.”
Vexum hesitated.
“I know, but… something feels wrong. I can’t explain it.”
He almost said more, but held back.
After all, even the [Creators] weren’t all-knowing.
There were mysteries even they couldn’t predict.
Secrets hidden even from their eyes.
And then, the grey-eyed Creator, the one who rarely spoke, finally opened his mouth.
“…I agree with Vexum,” he said in a low, firm tone, “It’s not over.”
The others turned, eyebrows raised.
But before they could question him, the massive projection orb showing the battlefield suddenly pulsed.
They turned back toward it, and saw the impossible.
Alex’s body was inches from the ground.
His soul should’ve been gone. His mind should’ve collapsed.
But at the very last moment, he moved.
Fwish!
One foot shifted.
Swash!
He planted it firmly on the ground, just enough to stop his fall.
Then, slowly, shaking, and trembling, he stood.
“…”
“What?”
“NO FUCKING WAY—”
Even Nocteron and Lich had stopped moving.
Their victory celebrations froze as they turned to look at him, eyes wide.
Alex was standing. Barely.
But still… standing.
And before his hollow eyes, a single panel appeared, simple, powerful, burning with red light:
[Determination (One-Time Usage): When the user is hit by “Annihilation,” their soul, even if shattered, will be fueled by a divine surge of unyielding willpower. This will allow it to survive once.]
[Upon activation, the ability will immediately vanish and never be used again.]
So this… this was it.
This was what it meant to be the [God of Determination].
Alex closed his eyes, breath slowly returning as his soul stirred.
A soft crimson glow began to surround him, flickering, sparking, refusing to fade.
This wasn’t resurrection. This was resistance. A refusal to die.
And then… it began.
One by one, the crimson fragments that had once scattered across the air stopped fading.
Instead, they began to reverse.
They started returning. Spinning, flowing, reshaping.
His soul was coming back.
The shattered pieces swirled together, forming the same crimson heart they once were, solidifying back into the core of his being.
Then—with a final pulse, it slammed back into his chest.
BOOM.
Light erupted from his body.
His aura exploded outward, eyes igniting with red fire.
“What the fuck…” Nocteron muttered.
“Isn’t he supposed to be dead?!” Lich stammered.
And Alex… Alex took a breath.
His vision cleared. His body stabilized.
And with a quiet fury rising in every inch of him, he lifted his head.
“You’re about to die,” he said.
Behind him, one final panel appeared.
[But it refused.]
His soul refused to be erased.
It chose to stand. It chose to fight.
Alex clenched his fists.
His aura flared violently, and with every second that passed, the battlefield trembled.
“You…” he growled, locking eyes with Nocteron and Lich, “You will die.”
And so, as the worlds held their breath, and the [Creators] leaned forward in disbelief, the second phase began.
Alex had returned.
And this time… he was going to end it for good, in such a way that none of them could threaten anybody else.