Apollo stood still, the sword lowered once more.
The void surrounding him vanished.
Only the Sanctum remained, quiet and heavy.
Behind him, Clark fell to his knees. Sara covered her mouth, without her knowing. Arvain swallowed hard, barely keeping his footing.
No one spoke.
Not even Apollo.
His aura returned to normal; in fact, it beca weaker, as it was clear this sword took almost everything he had, but he doesn’t seem to care. He was lost in the experience that he just felt.
The wonderful feeling that he felt was too hard to describe in words, as it was kind of an epiphany that let him understand more about his eternal sword rule and let him develop its usage to extre degrees.
That final slash hadn’t been strength. It hadn’t been technique.
It had been understanding.
For the first ti, he saw his Eternal Sword Rule not as a weapon ant to cut enemies but as a mirror that reflected the truth—and then severed the falsehoods.
The idea made his blood stir.
He exhaled and only then noticed that his hand trembled faintly. His reserves were drained, the backlash creeping through his bones like cold water. But he didn’t mind.
Sohow, it felt like the beginning.
Clark and Sara then quickly ca to him, "Are you alright?"
He turned slightly, giving a faint nod. "Just... tired."
Arvain also slowly walked towards him and thanked him. "Thanks for saving my life." Although his voice was still a bit cold and appeared nacing, he was really grateful, as he knew he might not have survived if not for him.
He sighed and gave a low breath of awe, then glanced toward the scattered dust where the creature had vanished. "To think there was this kind of swordsmanship in the universe." He then takes out a token from his storage ring.
"This is the token of Hall of Hell; if you soday needed help, this token can lead you to one of the branches in the universe."
Apollo looked at the dark token Arvain extended toward him. It pulsed faintly, as though it contained an ancient rhythm, like the slow heartbeat.
He didn’t reach for it imdiately. Instead, he gazed at it, eyes calm but thoughtful.
"The Hall of Hell," he murmured, echoing the na. Although they didn’t have a good reputation, he knew that sotis what was actually obvious outside might not be true. Not to ntion Hall of Hell is a terrifying force, so it wouldn’t be bad to have a good relationship with them.
"Alright." He nodded, and then with that, Arvain quietly left.
After this battle, their journey continued, and ti passed.
Three months later...
Apollo was sitting on top of the mountain. His eyes were closed, and the aura around him was a bit turbulent.
...It wasn’t the turbulence of instability but rather of sothing vast pushing against its current bounds—like a storm trapped within a teacup.
Each breath took in the winds, the light, and the faint echoes of the stars above. And with each breath out, the surrounding space warped slightly, unable to contain the slow fusion of rules around him.
At so distance, Sara and Clark were standing and looking at the monstrous aura surrounding Apollo.
"He is going to break through."
These three months after that battle went through different things, and they have grown quite a lot, but still cannot compare to Apollo.
He seed to have beco even more unfathomable in just these three months and now was going to break through again to beco a true god.
Suddenly—
Boom!
A silent explosion radiated from Apollo’s body, though it made no sound, only force. A shockwave rolled outward, not through the air, but through the nurous layers of space. The sky above trembled, and for a mont, the light of distant stars flickered, as if bowing to the birth of sothing new.
His hair fluttered in the windless storm, his eyes still closed. A crown of light, indistinct but imasurably divine, shimred faintly above his brow. The chaotic swirl of rules around him began to rge into clarity—Eternal Sword, Space, Destruction... all began to harmonise.
He wasn’t just breaking through. He was refining his foundation as he broke through.
Above the mountain, lightning coiled. The heavens themselves, long silent to the rise of mortals, now stirred.
And then—
His eyes opened.
Eternal. Reflecting nothing of the world... yet encompassing everything.
The mountain beneath him cracked—then stabilised. The world shuddered—then cald. His aura changed as he finally crossed the barrier and beca a true God realm warrior.
And Apollo stood slowly, his presence no longer sharp like a sword, but absolute like a concept.
"...So this is the realm of True Gods," he murmured.
He after coming here from the early stage of the void god, reached the true god realm in just a few months. The improvent was terrifying.
He after that, proceeded to feel the changes in him. He now feels he is many tis stronger; whether it is his body, spirit or soul, everything has taken a big step ahead.
Apollo stood atop the jagged cliff, wind curling around him like threads of fate trying to glimpse the future. His robes fluttered gently, but he remained unmoving, eyes half-closed as he focused inward—deep, deeper than thought, past the limits of form and into the core of his new existence.
He opened his hand.
Thrum.
Space itself rippled faintly.
He clenched his fist again, and the turbulence stilled. His control had reached a level so fine, so precise, that even the universal forces around him seed reluctant to resist.
"...It’s not just power," he muttered.
His body felt like a forge-hardened weapon. Every cell brimming with divine power, every bone refined like mythic ore. A single punch could tear even eternal gods apart.
His spiritual sea had transford into sothing vast and luminous, a calm ocean of starlight where ancient constellations rose and fell with his will. His soul, once a steady ember, had beco sothing... different. Transcendent.
He could see the flow of rules now—not just feel or grasp at them, but perceive them more clearly than ever. Like threads woven to create the fundantal of the universe.
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