God Ash: Remnants of the fallen. Chapter 1329 1329: It shall never Err

Nero stood in the clearing among the rubble of shattered corpses, falling branches and torn roots.

The morning light painted everything in shades of grey and gold. The ruined settlent stretched out before him. The broken buildings, collapsed walls and the corpse of the godtree looming overhead behind him like a monunt to an ancient ti.

He adjusted his grip on the strap of his satchel.

The strange feeling of his grip on the shaft of Gungnir field his mind.

The spear felt different than it had during the battle.

Heavy and yet, light.

He had decided to test the weapon out. Just like any tool, he had to gain proper mastery of it before it would be of any use to him.

Nero raised it overhead. His muscles rippled and buldged as he got into a throwing stance.

A mont later, he let it fly.

The weapon cut through the air in a perfect arc, traveling through the air for over fifty ters before reaching the point of decline and stabbing into the earth with a clear ring.

Nero raised a brow,

'I barely put any energy into that.'

Nero knew his physical abilities had improved greatly compared to what they had previously been. But a flick of a wrist sending the spear flying so far.

'It's no wonder it could easily tear through the defenses of the Demons.' he thought to himself.

His heart sped up.

If that was the case, then he had a really good thing on his hands. Defeating Abominations with great defenses would not longer require him constantly having to lay down his life.

Nero let out a huff.

Then his brows furrowed. He stretched out his hand towards the spear.

He felt it imdiately— that sa strange resonance, the illusory connection that had blood during the battle. It was faint but unmistakable, like a thread pulled taut between his being and the weapon.

He pulled.

Gungnir wrenched itself free from the coarse black earth and shot back into his grip.

The impact nearly knocked him off balance. He stumbled, caught himself, stared at the spear.

"So that's how it works."

He threw it again. This ti at a different target—a fallen branch from the godtree, half-buried in rubble. The spear struck true, splitting through the rotten wood, embedding itself all the way into the ground before the force dissipated.

Nero made a ntal command. The spear humd and wriggled free of the ground before returning.

He did it again. And again.

Each ti, the process felt more natural. Like his body and soul were becoming accustod to the natural rhythm of the spear.

Nero grinned, "This is incredible."

A problem he has struggled with for so ti now, was range.

He was grossly incapable of dealing damage at the mid to long range. This severely inhibited him. And considering there was a large number of avian Abominations and horrors that didn't need to be close to cause death, he had truly been surviving by the skin of his teeth.

That all had been changed.

With the spear, the issue of range was partially solved.

He paused for a mont.

With the spear returned to his grip, he hefted it over his shoulder.

His body beca tense and taut as he prepared to pour in all his strength into his throwing muscles.

BANG!

The air split apart, creating a concave ripple that manifested as a loud shockwave. The spear cut through the air, leaving a streak behind.

Nero watched as it traveled in a glorious arc, landing sowhere rather far away.

He could stop himself from whistling.

"Incredible. That was over two hundred ters for sure!"

He paused for a mont then reached out with his hand.

His brows furrowed. The connection was still there. But it was rather weak.

He poured in more focus.

A humming sound ca from the distance.

Then...

"Ah! Damn it!"

Knocked flat on his back by the montum of the returning spear, he remained there for so ti.

'So about two hundred ters is the limit.'

That was not bad at all.

And there was sothing else...

He noticed that even though it had been mostly subconscious, his eyes had been fixed on a distant target. Thanks to Heretic Eyes, he could see quite far into the distance.

Gungnir had adjusted its trajectory mid-flight—a subtle shift that shouldn't have been possible, and struck the target perfectly.

Nero called it back, a look of amazent on his face,

'What was that?'

{The spear's enchantnt, Unwavering. It allows the wielder to strike any target within line of sight with absolute certainty. However, the enchantnt draws upon the wielder's Ein Sof reserves. The distance between the Heretic and the target determines the cost}.

Nero's gaze cut into the distance, then at the spear in his hand.

'How great is the cost?'

{At fifty to a hundred ters a fair amount. At two hundred, it becos substantial. Beyond that, prohibitive unless the Heretic's reserves increase significantly}.

He nodded slowly. That made sense. Nothing ca without cost after all.

He tested it again.

The spear struck perfectly.

'Good.'

But there was still sothing off about the weapon. Sothing he couldn't quite place.

Nero held Gungnir horizontally, examining it. The runes along the shaft glowed faintly in the morning light, the double-pointed head gleaming an austere silver.

He tried a basic thrust— the kind that had been drilled into him duringthose grueling early morning trainings.

Most of his training had revolved around the use of a sword since that had been his primary weapon of use at the ti. However, he had also trained with polearms as well since the battle technique of the Crimson Crucible had revolved around all types of lee combat.

He had also been trained in unard combat as well.

'I suck at it though.'

With every thrust, slash, stab, and sweeping arc, the spear resisted.

Not just physically too. It was as though there was an ever present weight to it that didn't match its size and shape. Like it was made of sothing denser than wood and tal should be.

Truly, it was strange indeed...