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[Translator - Peptobismol]
[Proofreader - Demon God]
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Chapter 352
Zeon flatly rejected Johan’s offer to negotiate.
They could have reached a compromise—each side taking a step back. That way, they could maintain a fragile peace and live somewhat comfortably.
But Zeon knew better than anyone: peace gained that way never lasted.
This fight wasn’t something Zeon had wanted.
He hadn’t started it either.
It had been Johan and Dongdaemun who set this conflict in motion.
Which meant they also had to bear the consequences of the fight.
There would be no vague ending, no sweeping it under the rug. The outcome had to be something so concrete and justifiable that no one could question it.
In an age where you kill or be killed, accountability wasn’t some lofty concept.
It was your life.
There was no such thing as walking away unscathed after all this carnage.
Johan bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and spoke.
“So we’re really going all the way, huh? You won’t walk away from this either.”
“Probably not.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“When you fight, flesh tears, muscles rupture, bones break, blood flies… isn’t that just how it is?”
These days, Zeon rarely sustained wounds—but in his early days as an Awakened, he’d had to fight for his life every day.
None of the beings he faced in the desert were weaker than him.
He fought through brutal injuries daily, only to heal and go again.
If not for his super-regeneration ability, Zeon would’ve died—several times over.
To him, getting hurt or feeling pain wasn’t a problem.
It was second nature.
That was what combat was to Zeon.
Inflicting damage while enduring it himself—until the enemy was subdued or dead.
Johan was the opposite.
Since building his personal kingdom within Dongdaemun, he had never fought directly.
There were always others willing to fight for him—why get his hands dirty like a barbarian?
Naturally, he had never bled as Zeon had, never hovered at death’s door.
So when all his shields had been stripped away, he couldn’t hide his confusion.
He still had subordinates.
His right hand, Joshua, was alive, and a handful of Dongdaemun elites remained.
But expecting them to stop Zeon was delusional.
Even Dongdaemun’s top forces—paladins,Inquisitors, and Dark Saints—had been wiped out.
To believe that what was left could defeat Zeon was pure fantasy.
Johan licked his lips, throat dry, and asked,
“You really want to take this to the end?”
“Wasn’t that your intention when you stormed into Sinchon?”
“Hah… You truly are Satan incarnate. A denier of divine providence, dragging all into the pits of hell. Because of you, the people of Sinchon will never escape the curse.”
“You sure do talk a lot. Why so many words all of a sudden?”
“Fine! So be it. Let’s see this through, Zeon!”
Johan cast away his hesitation.
Countless eyes were watching him.
If he backed down here, his reputation would plummet, and the authority of the Church would fall with it.
If that happened, no one would fear Dongdaemun anymore.
Johan understood just how hollow and pathetic the fall of a religion that lost its reverence and fear could be.
He began walking toward Zeon.
Now, no fear or doubt could be seen in his eyes.
Once he accepted death, a strange calm had settled within him.
His opponent was a Sand Mage—someone with powers that defied logic.
But Johan had his own abilities.
He cast a series of buffs on himself.
His chalky bones hardened like steel, lifeless muscles regained elasticity.
CRACK!
His hunched back straightened, his shoulders broadened.
Wrinkles vanished from his face, and his once-clouded eyes gleamed with fierce light.
In an instant, Johan appeared decades younger.
His muscles brimmed with explosive power, and his internal energy surged, seeking release.
By defying the natural order, Johan had gained immense power. But the cost was just as great.
Chunks of his lifespan were shaved away.
Only by burning his life force could he hope to stand against Zeon.
Johan chose not to think about what came after.
If he lost to Zeon, there would be no “after.”
Win or lose, this fight had to end here.
He walked toward Zeon.
There was no tremble in his eyes, no twitch in his muscles.
With half-lidded eyes, Johan moved like a man illuminated by divine light. The aura spilling from his body created a radiant glow.
To ordinary eyes, it seemed holy.
Johan murmured,
“God walks with me. Divine Judgement!”
FLASH!
Suddenly, a beam of light fell from the clear sky.
It struck directly above Zeon’s head.
BOOM!
Zeon barely dodged it.
Where the light landed, a bottomless crater formed.
Its destructive power was immense.
Johan silently pointed at Zeon again. Another beam of light crashed down.
This time, Zeon raised a sand shield above his head to block it.
BOOM!
With an explosion, Zeon was blown backward.
The sand that took the hit turned black and disintegrated into ash.
Had the shield not bought him time, Zeon would’ve suffered serious injury.
Johan pointed again.
Each time he did, light rained from the sky.
“This is the wrath of God, Satan!”
Johan’s voice thundered across the streets.
“Wrath of God, my ass.”
Zeon smirked and waved his hand. The sand at his feet turned into serpents and lunged at Johan.
Sand Vipers—one of Zeon’s skills.
Dozens of sand snakes bared their fangs, ready to strike.
But just before they could bite, Johan’s body radiated a holy light.
FSSHH!
The light disintegrated the Sand Vipers and surged toward Zeon.
“Ugh!”
The instant the light touched his hand, Zeon felt searing pain.
His skin burned, blisters oozing.
Had it lingered even a moment longer, his muscles might’ve been incinerated.
Johan approached and said,
“Do you see now? This is proof that God exists. This light is divine power—no human can resist it.”
“Divine power, my ass too.”
“You still deny God? Divine Judgement!”
Another beam of light descended.
Zeon dodged with Sand Stride.
BOOM!
Another crater blasted into the ground.
To onlookers, it truly seemed like divine fury raining down upon Zeon.
But Zeon knew better.
This wasn’t God’s wrath.
His eyes had been fixed on Johan’s neck for a while now.
Specifically, on the cross pendant he wore.
Every time Johan moved or spoke, the cross gleamed.
‘An artifact.’
It was the first time Zeon had seen one shaped like a cross, but form didn’t matter.
What mattered was that the pendant responded to Johan’s will and attacked Zeon.
BOOM! BOOM! CRACK!
Light rained down relentlessly on Zeon’s position.
He had no time to rest, constantly moving.
But even Zeon couldn’t dodge forever.
CRAAACK!
“Guh!”
Eventually, he was hit directly.
He was blown dozens of meters, crashing into a wall.
The impact shattered it, burying him in rubble.
Johan spread his arms to the slum dwellers and shouted,
“Did you see? This is the power of God. No one can escape His wrath. Believe in God. Believe in me. Those who don’t will face Divine Judgement.”
“Ohhh…”
“So God really exists?”
The slum dwellers trembled.
To them, Johan’s display seemed like a miracle of divine power.
But then—
“That’s not divine wrath. And it’s not God’s power either.”
Zeon emerged from the rubble, brushing off the debris.
Rage twisted Johan’s face.
“You still deny—!”
“True divine wrath isn’t this petty. True divine power isn’t this weak. God wouldn’t manifest through something as pathetic as you.”
His singed hair regained its shine, and the burned skin regenerated in moments.
Thanks to the power of super-regeneration.
Though a Sand Mage, Zeon could use fire skills freely thanks to the Inferno Gauntlet, and he possessed regenerative powers to boot.
Johan was no different.
He was a buffer, but the cross he wore allowed him to unleash mysterious attack skills.
He wasn’t God.
He didn’t commune with one.
He was just an Awakened using a strange artifact.
He was human—no different from Zeon.
And Zeon had no intention of losing to another human.
He summoned Sand Soldiers.
Dozens formed around him like an honor guard.
Seeing this, Johan shouted,
“Divine Judgement!”
FLASH!
Another beam of light fell.
But Zeon didn’t dodge pathetically this time.
BOOM!
The light exploded—on a Sand Soldier.
The soldier vanished without a trace, but Zeon remained unharmed.
“Damn you! Divine Judgement!”
Johan screamed and called down another.
Again, it struck a nearby Sand Soldier—not Zeon.
Johan’s eyes quivered.
He couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing.
Zeon smirked coldly.
If this really were divine wrath, such a simple trick wouldn’t work.
The fact that the attack couldn’t distinguish between Zeon and his sand clones proved it wasn’t divine at all.
Johan unleashed wave after wave of “Divine Judgement.”
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Blinding light. Explosions. Sand Soldiers obliterated one after another.
But Zeon remained untouched.
The soldiers served as lightning rods—absorbing the punishment.
Thanks to them, Zeon stood unharmed before Johan.
They were so close now they could feel each other’s breath.
Every twitch of the eyebrow, every inhale—clearly visible.
Zeon saw the tremble in Johan.
His eyes were shaking, his heart thundering, breath growing ragged.
A man who had survived countless hardships wouldn’t let failure shake him this visibly.
Johan had clearly lived a life of protection—a flower in a greenhouse.
Zeon, on the other hand, was a wild weed grown in a harsh desert.
They were fundamentally different.
And both of them knew it.
That’s why Johan shrank back, his fear surfacing.
Zeon’s lips curled into a smile.
Cold as ice. Piercing as frost.
The moment Johan saw it, a chill ran down his spine.
“If you really heard the voice of God—if you wield divine power—then let’s see you survive this.”
“What…?”
“Sand Mixer.”
Suddenly, the sand beneath Johan’s feet began to swirl violently.
All the sand scattered throughout the street was sucked in and spun like a blender.
“No—No!!”
GRRRRRRRRK!
Johan’s desperate cry was swallowed by the roaring sand.
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[Translator - Peptobismol]
[Proofreader - Demon God]
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