Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

Breaking through the enemy's defenses with a single point, defeating the strong with the weak! Excellent archery!

Samael paused, then abruptly turned his head, gazing intently at the robust, black-haired youth who dared to intervene in the war of the gods, his eyes filled with admiration.

At that moment, their eyes met in mid-air. The great Persian hero placed one hand on his chest in salute and laughed heartily.

Then, two figures, a thousand meters apart, were simultaneously surrounded by surging etheric tides.

"—My wise and sagacious lord."

O Radiant Lord who bestows all wisdom, dignity, and strength.

Behold my heart, my thoughts, and the things I will accomplish.

Come, God of creation, moon and stars!

Witness my actions, my deathbed, my sacred dedication…

In the midst of the Persian army, this great Persian hero stretched out his arm, drew back his longbow, and uttered a rapid and solemn prayer. Golden flames, burning and flowing from his own torn flesh, converged on the arrow poised to be released on the bowstring.

Foreign gods, please see my fate—Stella!

As blood mist spurted from his body, his muscles and bones groaned in agony from the strain, and the near-collapsed humanoid figure revealed pride in his eyes.

At the same time, Samael reacted even faster, his five fingers curling forward and grabbing at the air. Several runes, like cannonballs, crashed down from the sky before the radiant arrow could be fired, causing the entire hill to collapse with a roar.

In an instant, the great hero Arash, who had been holding his shooting posture, had his right arm, which was drawing the bowstring, torn apart, with bones and flesh flying everywhere until it disintegrated at the root, revealing the white bone fragments. The protective halo embedded in his body shattered layer by layer, and his limbs and torso exploded into clouds of blood mist as he fell backward.

Praise is a way of paying tribute to heroes!

Taking action means attacking the enemy!

You have done everything in your power for your country and for your monarch.

Arash Kamanga, the great Persian hero!

Samael's gaze was pure and profound, and the Spear of Nation-Building gradually materialized in his hand as he turned and charged toward Cyrus's target.

"go!"

At this moment, sustained by the pages of fate in Scheherazade's hands, Arash, who was still clinging to life, vomited blood, grabbed Darius III's arm, and struggled to utter his last words of advice before turning away and fainting.

Even the hero praised by the Great Khan has fallen.

The tall and strong Darius III rose to his feet, looking at the Persian army that was charging left and right in the ravine, unable to break through the encirclement, and gradually filled with despair and madness. He couldn't help but feel regretful and bewildered.

If they use Arash's trump card to break through, they still have a last sliver of a chance.

However, he never gave up.

My Lord Ahura, have you no longer favored the Persians?

Darius III gazed at the high altar, where he had repeatedly tried to call upon the names of all the gods in the temple, but to no avail. He gripped the sword of the dead, his expression filled with grief and indignation.

The priests and priests were equally ashen-faced.

"Your Majesty, only the gods can stand against them! Do you still remember that village, and the boy you saved?"

Perhaps, we still have one last chance…

Just then, Scheherazade, his will to survive suddenly surged, gritted his teeth and brought up the taboos he had encountered when he was purging Zoroastrian extremists.

In desperation, Darius III raised the sword of the dead, a hint of extreme madness flashing in his eyes.

Boom!

Just as Samael sent Cyrus flying again and was poised to unleash his cross spear, eerie red and black lightning struck in all directions. In an instant, dark clouds filled the sky, and dozens of spiraling wind pillars descended from the inky clouds, within which one could vaguely see twisted human figures tearing and howling.

hum!

In an instant, heaven and earth resonated, and a red and black pillar of light shot into the sky, shattering the barrier formed by the runes.

A divine intervention!

The ancient serpent sensed the growing sinister malice emanating from the Persian army, its brow twitching wildly, a strong sense of unease gripping its heart.

What kind of monster have they summoned this time?!

Chapter Sixty-Eight: Human Calamity Descends!

laugh!

At this moment, as the light dissipated, the red strips of cloth, inscribed with runes like layers of a cocoon, on the great altar of the Persian army crumbled inch by inch, revealing a thin young man inside whose skin, from head to toe, was covered with twisted red and black divine patterns.

hiss……

The young man slowly opened his eyes, revealing dark pupils. He spread his arms and greedily inhaled the air, like a satisfied addict, frantically enjoying himself.

The Persian priests surrounding the high altar felt the immense and distorted divine power, and saw the figure with its limbs and eyes intact. Their eyes were filled with complex emotions. They thought that when they returned, they might be rejected and executed by the temple.

It worked! It actually worked!

Angra Mainyu, one of the two great primordial gods of Persia, the enemy of Ahura, the Lord of Wisdom, and the chief of the evil gods!

Unexpectedly, summoned by the Book of Destiny and the Sword of the Dead, He would actually descend upon this unremarkable young man.

In the Persian pantheon, there exists a dualistic view of light and darkness, good and evil, which gave rise to the two origin gods: Ahura, the god of good, and Angra Mainyu, the god of evil.

Over the long course of time, Ahura Mazda, the Lord of Wisdom, created the world and fought against the evil god Angra Mainyu for 12000 years, with the outcome naturally being the victory of the supreme god Ahura.

But just as there is always shadow beyond light, Angolan Mainyu, representing evil, did not perish; legend has it that he was merely sealed away and has always accompanied humanity.

When the final day comes, He will emerge from the abyss and destroy the entire world!

In some remote, uncivilized areas of the Persian Empire, radical religious figures exploited people's aversion to and fear of evil gods, inciting the ignorant masses to engage in a peculiar and ugly custom.

That is, to select a target, artificially define it as a vessel for the evil god Angra Mainyu, and make him bear the misfortune brought by "evil" alone through physical torture and flesh sacrifice.

In this way, all the sins of everyone can be absorbed by the vessel that is sacrificed, and they can enter heaven unblemished after death.

The young man on the altar was a victim of this custom. He was imprisoned on the mountaintop by villagers who were venting their malice, and then his right eye was gouged out and his hands and feet were broken.

Darius III, while marching through the area, happened to rescue this tormented young man who bore the name of an evil god. He took him in as a special case, intending to hand him over to the Great Khan for disposal after the war.

In a sense, he shares a similar concept with the future Christian concept of Jesus Christ's coming to earth and his willingness to sacrifice his blood to cleanse humanity of original sin.

The only difference is that one is passive and the other is active.

In fact, this phenomenon is not an isolated case. There was a similar custom of "sending away the god of poverty" in ancient China. Some extremely poor villages would also select an innocent person, define him as the "god of poverty", drive him away, and hope to gain wealth.

Humans can be more cruel to their own kind than wild animals sometimes...

"My lord, we have been ambushed by the enemy and are about to be annihilated. Please bring victory to Persia! I swear by blood that once we return to the capital, I will build a temple for you, hold sacrifices, and serve you for the rest of my life!"

At this moment, amidst the astonished and pale expressions of the Persians, Darius III, with his right hand holding a sword and his left hand gripping the blade, spilled blood on the altar, openly betraying his former faith. A few of the more astute among them, however, felt sorrow and pity in their eyes. They understood that this meant their monarch would have to bear all the guilt and consequences of summoning the evil god.

“I recognize you, you seem to have saved him before…”

The young man stroked his chin, smiled and squinted at the clergy around him, then looked around and his eyes lit up. His gaze fell on Darius III, who had spoken, and he grinned as he pointed to his chest.

The child still retains some consciousness! He remembers His Majesty's grace! We...

puff!

The sudden sound caused the priests' ecstatic expressions to freeze instantly, their blank stares reflecting the blood-red fingers that had pierced through Darius III's chest.

"But you lied to him too..."

The young man slowly raised his arm, his gaze cold and mocking, like a cat toying with a mouse.

It was His Majesty who rescued him from those ignorant people and promised him justice.

It was this same emperor who pushed him back onto the altar, subjected him to torture, and carried out his lynching.

The cruelest thing in the world is to let a person glimpse a ray of light in endless darkness and torment, to rekindle hope, and then to destroy it with their own hands.

Humans are more cruel to their own kind than wild beasts...

It was true in the past, it is true now, and it will be true in the future; the cycle repeats itself, never changing...

It was the actions of these people that extinguished the last vestige of illusion and goodwill this body held toward the world, creating pure evil and calling forth the ultimate darkness.

Everything is as you wished.

Hahaha!!!

The black-haired youth's face contorted, and he couldn't help but cover his cheek with one hand. The shadow cast by the hand divided his face into two completely different expressions.

They cry in the darkness, they laugh in the sunlight.

I, Angra Mainyu, am a god who refuses to be understood, a god who only seeks the absolute!

How filthy the world is, how ugly humanity is!

Life swarms and crawls, growing and emitting a putrid stench all day long.

I do not approve of their kind! I do not understand their kind!

You maggots, you've lived long enough!

The extremely evil god descended the steps from the altar, his expression twisted and crazed, grinning savagely.

Tsk tsk tsk!

In an instant, strips of red cloth, like venomous pythons, shot out from Angolan Manu's body, piercing the hearts of dozens of priests around him and instantly draining their life essence.

Subsequently

At the same time, countless red and black mycelia spread from Angolan Manu's feet in all directions, and the captured Persian soldiers were instantly burned into charred black skeletons by the red and black flames attached to the mycelia.

“Go…go quickly!”

Darius III, with his eyes wide with rage, roared hysterically as he clung to Angolan Manuel's arm like a piece of cured meat. He immediately tightened his grip and rolled down the hill with Angolan Manuel in his arms.

"Hahahaha! Too late! Too late! You wriggling maggots, prepare to receive this curse upon life!"

The obstruction from Darius III caused Angra Mainyu to laugh maniacally, and with a wave of his arm, red and black flames surged, turning the body of the monarch into ashes and withering away.

Boom!

In an instant, the ground shook violently, and the ultimate and pure malice towards all living things gushed out from the cracks in the earth, forming a red and black mud flow that melted life.

At the same time, the dark red stains transformed into a rain of fire that blanketed the ground.

Wherever they were touched, whether they were Persians, Romans, the Immortals, or Amazonian warriors, their muscles and bones would instantly begin to burn and melt away inch by inch, becoming part of the red and black mud on the ground with extreme pain and resentment.

Calamity has befallen humanity!

Chapter Sixty-Nine: I shouldn't have eaten that grass back then!

Boom!

At the same time, several miles away, Samael heard the thunder and turned around abruptly. With his eyes wide open and closed, he was shocked to see the apocalyptic scene in the valley, which looked like a volcanic eruption.

A dense, fiery red-black meteor shower rained down from the sky; scorching, lava-like filth surged from the ground, spreading in all directions along the terrain.

The reddish-black mycelium intertwined into snake-like tendrils, dragging those who couldn't dodge into the turbid current. Amidst their screams and wails of agony, it eroded their flesh and bones, melting them completely.

In the blink of an eye, the number of casualties on both sides in the battle has exceeded 10,000.

The most evil god—Angola Mainyu!

Samael's eyes, wide open to their limit, reflected through the thick black filth the tattooed youth on the altar, his smile crazed and twisted, a figure both familiar and strange to him.

To his disbelief, these Persians, fighting like cornered beasts, actually attracted the real deal!

hum!

Just as the ancient serpent was wavering, the surrounding ether trembled violently. Amidst the rustling of pages turning, a phoenix of light, formed from golden-red magic, flapped its wings and soared into the sky like a rainbow.

Want to leave?! Stay!

Samael frowned and turned, the Spear of Nation in his hand igniting with blood-red light, the spiraling, accelerating stream of ethereal light enveloping the spearhead as it pierced through the air.

boom!

The phoenix soaring in the sky was instantly torn to pieces. Cyrus, enveloped in light patterns, instinctively turned his torso to the side, and his left hand and left foot disintegrated under the crimson light!

However, even after suffering heavy damage, Cyrus the Great still disregarded everything, his golden-red burning divine blood blazing fiercely as he crashed into the gap in the barrier that had been breached by the arrival of Angra Mainyu at an even greater speed.

Damn! He can really run!

Samael frowned, cursing under his breath. His gloomy gaze lingered on the gap for a moment before finally settling on the patch of land below, which was filled with red and black mud.

At the same time, a black current surged within the ravine, and some retreating soldiers trapped inside hurriedly climbed up slightly higher hills to narrowly avoid being swept away by this filth.