Huh? Are they all real?...

"If you lose, I will definitely destroy this world, then rebuild everything you destroyed, and finally, I will try to go back and inflict the torment I feel on those poor, clueless bastards."

"Especially your queen, Celestella Castile!"

In response to His provocation, Moen, who had raised the Divine Punishment Greatsword, held it horizontally at his side.

They struck a very impressive preparatory stance.

This made the other party even more curious, and they asked:

"I had no idea you could use a sword."

In His memory, the Hermit was always bound to books and the Holy Grail.

But even after so many years, this guy still surprised Him just as much as he did back then.

After all, the Hermit didn't bring the Holy Grail back then; he brought fire instead.

But now, the hermit has taken up the sword.

"Where is your Holy Grail? It's not still with Queen Seresera, is it?"

As He said, Moen was also well aware that the gap between himself and the other party was now very large.

Even if he deliberately left behind a spark, it would still be the same.

After all, he is just a mortal now.

But he is also the only one who can currently be considered this guy's opponent.

If he runs away, then who will step forward?

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Nicholas. And then, I think you’ll find out everything in a little while.”

Hearing this, He asked with great interest:

"So what would I know? How would you fight me?"

Accompanying this inquiry was His response and temptation.

Endless monsters emerged from the deep darkness.

It was as if they were not in a limited underground base, but in an infinite world plunged into endless darkness.

These foul-smelling, deformed monsters were born from the poison and emerged from the darkness, determined to carry out the will of the Creator.

Spread the plague and tear the enemy apart.

But what's even more terrifying than them is the deep green mist that still lingers to this day.

That was the potent poison of the plague, a deadly venomous fog that appeared to be one kind of poison but was actually constantly generating new and potent toxins.

It was a synonym for death, a perfect mixture of plague.

It is a terrifying thing that would kill even a demigod the moment it comes into contact with.

Even the monsters that were born from this misty fog were constantly becoming diseased because they were in the thick fog.

The reason they haven't fallen yet is not only because they came from this place, but more importantly because the force that created them keeps telling them.

Even with their legs corroded by the poisonous mist, they can still move forward using their proliferating tentacles.

Even if their throats are swallowed by the virus, they can still roar with the germs inside their bodies.

Even though their entire bodies are constantly decaying, they can still experience pleasure and enjoy the torment.

Plague is adjacent to nature and life.

The powers of the three overlap and are mutually compatible.

However, they are almost opposite in their expression and emphasis.

Watching the endless monsters rushing towards them, enveloped in poisonous mist.

Moen's response was to raise his greatsword high.

Then he swung it down and plunged it into the ground.

The spark preserved by Moen began its astonishing growth.

The sea of ​​fire spread outwards from Moen's center.

Monsters, poisonous fog, and darkness all have nowhere to hide before the flames that represent destruction.

The darkness was illuminated, the poisonous fog was dispelled, and the monsters were burned to ashes.

Even the seemingly infinitely vast dark world seemed to shrink back to its former smallness in the face of this flame of hope.

But He, as the source, was completely unharmed in the flames.

That siege that could leave any demigod or even angel helpless was, to Him, merely a small application of His own power.

Therefore, He was not at all surprised that Moen was able to resolve it, nor did He take it seriously at all.

He even became increasingly interested, scooping up a handful of flames as they swept past him, and examining them closely.

"Ah, at that time I was only focused on fighting you, and completely ignored the origin and nature of this flame."

"Or rather, the flames that I loathe so much have been obscured by your arrogance, to the point that I can't see anything at all."

He will never forget that scene from back then.

When the whole world had lost to Him, the hermit, who was least expected to step forward, ignited a raging fire and walked out from the endless flames to stand before Him.

Excitement, indescribable excitement.

Almost every cell in my body was jumping for joy and cheering for this moment.

Their blood, which had long since cooled due to boredom, was now boiling to an unimaginable degree.

Because He knew that this was the final battle He had been waiting for!

Who would have thought that the evil god who went so far as to poison the world was only looking for a worthy opponent to have a thrilling and unforgettable battle to the death?

In fact, He was not wrong.

Because the hermit who emerged from the fire and stood before Him actually severed the heads of His incarnations one by one.

Within that seemingly frail body, He displayed an almost manic power!

At that moment, He could no longer see the raging flames that seemed capable of burning the world; He could only see the hermit who brought the fire.

"Now it seems."

He lowered his left hand and left his right hand, which remained burning in the flame.

Before this unprecedented flame, His right hand was burned to a bloody pulp, if He were not a sequence zero of the Plague, a pathway known for its high resistance to blood.

He thought that his hands had probably been burned clean long ago.

Even if it is the hand of a god.

Because He found that the healing of His arm could not keep up with the burning of the flames.

The problem is, it is something that can instantly recover to its original state as long as there is even a single drop of blood or a single cell still alive.

"This flame is practically made to destroy me! Where did you find it? Don't tell me you made it specifically to deal with me, or I'd be flattered!"

Moen, having drawn his greatsword, gave his answer without hesitation.

He always respected his opponents, even Nicholas, because he still had a human side.

Moen had never had any truly respectable opponents, except for those three truly inhuman prophets.

"You're mistaken. This fire wasn't created to destroy you; it was born to destroy the world!"

"Oh?"

He lowered his burning right hand, and the flames went out, but the hand, which should have been healed, remained charred and unrecovered.

"A flame born to destroy the world?"

"I did indeed sense an incredibly powerful destructive force emanating from those flames. But why are you making such a statement?"

Although it was a serious inquiry, His attacks did not stop there.

The entire mysterious island base is dissolving at a rate visible to the naked eye.

The molten steel did not turn into glowing red-hot iron, but instead became a thick, foul-smelling, dark purple pus that slowly dripped down.

It was as if they were standing not on the mysterious island base, but on a festering sore on the body of a giant monster.

In fact, it was indeed a boil.

However, it wasn't on a giant monster, but on a festering sore in this world.

Within just a few seconds, the Human Alliance's satellite witnessed the entire base dissolving and a deep purple bubble appearing.

And in such a short time, this purple bubble transformed into a giant object that could be seen with the naked eye from space.

When the Federation saw this scene in the satellite's live images, their first impression of it was that it was like a foul-smelling sore that could burst at any moment.

Unsurprisingly, this was yet another serious situation that they simply couldn't handle.

All they could do was trust the Sword and Shield King, who had voluntarily stayed at the Mysterious Island base.

They didn't even dare to try attacking the boil.

After all, if it really explodes, then we're doomed.

At the bottom of the base, Moen had already noticed that the flames on his body were beginning to wither.

Moen's legs were completely sunk into the muddy, deep purple mud.

The flames on his body could burn away the foul-smelling substance, but without divinity as fuel, the fire was quite weak.

"You burned everything you had back then to fuel this flame and fight me, didn't you?"

Watching Moen sink deeper and deeper, He stood not far away and asked this question.

"Yes, after all, you were really difficult to deal with back then."

The Plague Path is unsuitable for combat, at least not for direct combat. It's a path similar to the Pure White Path, both emphasizing long-term development.

Pure white can bewitch the gods, while plague can create its own gods.

Those are His plague incarnations.

After achieving a crucial victory in a divine war, He received His first divine incarnation.

From then on, His uncontrolled expansion became uncontrollable.

Therefore, in order to defeat Him at his peak, Moen had no choice but to offer up everything he had at that time.

"So why is it said that this flame was born to destroy the world?"

Seeing that He had asked the question again, Moen, who was preparing to retaliate, thought for a moment and then, before he was completely swallowed by the deep purple, said very seriously:

"Originally, He intended to destroy the world He created, and this fire was born for that purpose!"

This answer greatly exceeded the expectations of Him and the other bystander.

Even the bystanders who should have remained silent couldn't help but say something:

"This is impossible!"

A mother could never want to destroy the world; it's everything she loves most!

This is the only thing she cares about!

How could she possibly destroy the only thing she cares about? What could make her make this decision?

So that's impossible!

As soon as the voice fell, Nicholas Poiseus squinted and looked up.

"I'm truly surprised you're still alive? However, you seem rather impolite! This is a battle between him and me; I don't want any extra eyes intruding on my enjoyment!"

The deep purple pustules instantly turned into an even more repulsive and unbearable dark green.

At this moment, not only was the eldest son's vision completely cut off, but everyone who was looking at the festering sore also collapsed in agony.

Regardless of how they observed this place.

Whether directly or indirectly.

Anyone who watches it will be corrupted by divinity.

In the presence of the supreme being, petty cleverness is utterly useless; it will only harm oneself and others.