Primordial Awakening: They Targeted My Daughter, I Became The Butcher!

Chapter 96: Last Judgment of Heaven

"God Slaying Sword Art."

"Thirteenth Form..."

"Last Judgment of Heaven."

...

Silence.

An unnatural silence.

Even the countless divine laws intertwining throughout the void came to a complete halt.

The Gods who had been attacking Amon suddenly froze.

Their expressions gradually changed.

Because...

They could no longer sense the void.

No.

They could no longer sense anything.

The concepts of space.

Time.

Life.

Death.

Everything seemed to have disappeared.

Only Amon remained.

Standing quietly within absolute nothingness.

Azrael no longer emitted sword hums.

It had become completely silent.

As though even it understood that the sword about to descend had surpassed the limits of its existence.

One of the Gods abruptly widened his eyes.

"What..."

"What is happening?"

Another deity instinctively stepped backward.

His pupils trembled uncontrollably.

"No..."

"This isn’t sword intent."

"This is..."

Before he could finish speaking...

Amon slowly raised Azrael.

There wasn’t the slightest fluctuation of power.

There was no divine light or terrifying aura.

There was also no overwhelming pressure.

It was just an ordinary movement.

Yet the hundreds of Gods felt an unprecedented sense of danger.

The elderly God who had invited Amon earlier finally lost his composure.

His expression distorted, and he immediately shouted to the surrounding Gods.

"Stop him!"

"Kill him now!"

"Don’t let him complete that sword art!"

BOOOOOOM!!!

All the Gods attacked, and hundreds of divine authorities descended simultaneously.

Golden spears.

Divine chains.

Ancient seals.

World-ending flames.

Laws capable of rewriting reality itself.

Every attack was enough to erase countless civilizations.

Yet...

Before they could approach Amon...

They disappeared.

Not shattered or destroyed.

They were simply...

Gone.

As though they had never existed.

The surrounding Gods froze.

One beautiful goddess stared blankly at the empty space before her.

"My authority... it vanished..."

Another God hurriedly condensed another divine weapon.

The result was the same.

It silently disappeared.

His pupils constricted instantly...

Fear.

Pure fear.

For the first time since becoming Gods...

They experienced the true horror of the Butcher.

Amon slowly lowered his gaze.

"You called yourselves Gods... you toyed with countless worlds... you decided life and death with a single wave of your hand... you laughed while people cried."

His calm voice echoed throughout the endless void.

"So..."

"Receive judgment."

Immediately, Azrael descended.

There was no explosion or brilliant light, neither was there any heaven-shaking impact.

Instead, there was only...

A single slash.

A pale line quietly crossed the void.

It moved slowly.

So slowly that every God could clearly see it approaching.

Yet...

None of them could avoid it.

One after another...

The thrones split apart.

The divine halos behind the Gods quietly shattered.

Ancient crowns fell from their heads.

Golden blood drifted silently throughout the darkness.

The slash continued forward.

Passing through hundreds of Gods.

Passing through countless worlds.

Passing through the endless void itself.

Then...

It disappeared, and silence returned.

One second... two seconds... three seconds.

Crack.

The throne of the burly God who had mocked humanity split into two.

His body followed shortly after.

He couldn’t even utter a scream until the moment of his death, and he couldn’t resist the Thirteenth Form.

He simply divided into two perfect halves before dissolving into countless particles of light.

"No..."

A nearby goddess reached toward her neck.

A thin crimson line appeared beneath her fingers, and golden blood trickled down her neck.

Her beautiful eyes filled with disbelief, and then, slowly, her divine body collapsed into nothingness.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

One after another...

The seated Gods began breaking apart.

Some lost their arms.

Some lost half their bodies.

Some watched helplessly as their divine authority crumbled before their eyes.

A wave of panic spread throughout the void.

"Impossible!"

"This is impossible!"

"Retreat!"

"Leave this place!"

They fled in every direction.

But wherever they went...

The pale line had already arrived.

The void itself had become the blade.

Hundreds of worlds trembled violently.

The surviving Gods stared at Amon as though looking at an indescribable monster.

How could a human release such an attack?

How could a lower lifeform release such an attack???

They found it hard to believe!

Meanwhile...

Amon stood motionless.

Blood slowly flowed beneath Ataroth’s Mask.

His body had reached its limit after releasing the Thirteenth Form.

After upgrading past the Primordial Rank, the sword art only continuously improved.

Only at the Mythical Primordial Rank did it gain a new form, and that was what he had just executed.

If it wasn’t for his unknown-ranked physique, Amon was certain that he would have shattered completely the moment he decided to execute such an attack.

Still, even as the endless void laws buried within the attack were destroying his body, his unknown physique was rapidly regenerating it, fixing the laws and cleansing Amon’s body completely of the consequences.

Amon’s soul trembled violently, and every cell in his body screamed in protest.

Even Azrael had begun producing tiny cracks across its flawless blade.

The Thirteenth Form...

Was never meant to be wielded by a mortal.

Even one whose physique had surpassed Mythical Primordial.

Yet Amon never looked away.

His eyes remained fixed upon the fleeing Gods.

His voice was calm, almost bored, as though he was merely stating a fact.

"So... gods bleed too."

The remaining deities instinctively stepped backward.

None of them spoke or laughed any longer.

None of them even looked toward the countless worlds surrounding them anymore.

Because standing before them...

Was no longer a human.

But a calamity capable of bringing an end to Heaven itself.

The surviving Gods fled without hesitation.

Some tore apart the void, while others shattered worlds beneath their feet.

Others abandoned their thrones without hesitation.

For the first time since their birth...

The beings who ruled over countless civilizations were running.

Running from a single man.

Running from the Butcher!

Amon slowly lifted Azrael.

His silver hair drifted behind him, dancing within the endless darkness.

Beneath Ataroth’s Mask... there wasn’t the slightest trace of emotion.

Only killing intent.

An endless killing intent.

...

Author’s note: Can I hear your thoughts on the Chapter?