The arena was silent.


    A bizarre, unnatural silence that clung to the battlefield like a suffocating fog.


    No cheers. No battle cries.


    No sounds of dying warriors gasping their final breaths.


    Only silence—thick and oppressive, pressing down on those who remained.


    Blood pooled in thick, dark lakes, rippling as broken bodies collapsed into them.


    The eerie golden light radiating from Asael’s floating weapons reflected off the crimson surface, twisting into grotesque patterns.


    Morales and Kevin arrived, their troops in tow.


    Then they saw it.


    Their breath hitched. Their footsteps slowed.


    It was a massacre.


    Steven, Lily, Magnum, and the Dwarf King entered the arena, their gazes locking onto the horrific scene before them.


    The sight rooted them in place, their stomachs churning as the full weight of the carnage settled upon them.


    The battlefield was littered with bodies.


    Not just warriors—but civilians. Innocents.


    Men, women, and children lay strewn across the blood-drenched ground, their bodies twisted in agony.


    Many had been disemboweled, their intestines spilling onto the cold stone.


    Others were missing limbs, their severed hands and legs discarded like butchered meat.


    Some had been impaled, their corpses grotesquely suspended on golden spears, their lifeless eyes staring into nothingness.


    The stench of burned flesh and fresh blood choked the air.


    Hemel’s heart pounded against his ribs.


    His fingers trembled as he quickly whispered an incantation, shrouding the group in invisibility before Asael’s golden gaze could fall upon them.


    They had to stay hidden.


    The survivors gathered, their bodies pressing close together as they struggled to contain their horror.


    Anne rushed to Steven’s side, her hands glowing with warm light as she channeled healing magic into his wounds.


    But her eyes, wide with terror, kept flicking toward the slaughter.


    Lily’s gaze darted frantically across the battlefield.


    Then she saw him.


    Kenta’s lifeless body lay sprawled across the scarlet-stained ground.


    His eyes, once brimming with determination, were empty and dull.


    His face, once filled with warmth, was now deathly pale.


    A gaping hole marred his chest where his heart had once beat.


    The Dwarf King clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as realization dawned upon him.


    This was no ordinary warrior.


    This was a Hero.


    An Apostle of the Gods.


    A Hero’s purpose was clear.


    To protect. To slay monsters. To stand against the darkness.


    But a Hero was also a weapon.


    A tool forged by divine hands, meant to execute the will of the gods.


    A Hero had to balance these two roles.


    Those who failed—


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    Became something far more terrifying.


    And right now—


    Asael was that failure.


    His golden weapons hovered around him like celestial harbingers of death.


    They shone with a divine radiance, yet there was nothing righteous about the slaughter they had wrought.


    Nothing just.


    Nothing merciful.


    Asael turned his gaze toward the last remnants of Beastwell.


    Terror-stricken men, women, and children stood frozen in fear.


    Their fur was matted with blood—not their own, but of their fallen kin.


    Their ears flattened against their heads, their tails curled in despair.


    They knew.


    They would be next.


    The Dwarf King gritted his teeth, his voice a harsh whisper.


    "We need to stop him."


    The others nodded, but the unspoken question loomed over them.


    How?


    ---


    Kevin’s muscles tensed, his fury a boiling storm beneath his skin.


    He turned to Morales, his voice thick with rage.


    "You take the civilians! We’ll handle him!"


    Morales nodded sharply, his instincts screaming at him to move.


    He signaled his troops, preparing to lead the survivors away.


    But before they could take a single step—


    A blade shot forward.


    Like a flash of golden lightning, it tore through the air—


    Straight toward Morales.


    His instincts screamed.


    He dodged one.


    Then two.


    But the third—


    Pierced his side.


    Pain erupted through his body. He staggered, clutching the bleeding wound—


    Another weapon followed.


    And another.


    The air filled with screams as Asael’s weapons descended upon the beastmen.


    Some tried to run. The blades were faster.


    A mother clutched her young child, her breath coming in frantic gasps—


    A golden spear impaled her back.


    Her body jerked, her eyes wide with shock—before she collapsed forward, limp.


    Her child, still beneath her, trembled violently, too young to understand.


    A sword sliced through the air.


    A small body fell still.


    The innocent froze.


    They saw what would happen if they ran.


    They saw what would happen if they stayed.


    There was no escape.


    Kevin’s rage reached its boiling point.


    His fists clenched so tightly his claws pierced his own palms.


    His entire body trembled, his breath coming in ragged, furious huffs.


    "You bastard—!"


    With a mighty roar, he charged.


    His massive gorilla frame launched toward Asael, fist raised high—


    But before he could strike—


    A spear impaled his gut.


    Kevin gasped. His body shook as the weapon burrowed deeper.


    His massive hands grasped at the shaft, trying to pull it out—


    A lance struck from behind.


    It burst through his back, the sharp edge protruding from his chest.


    Kevin coughed blood. His vision swam. His legs trembled—


    A golden sword slashed across his neck.


    His head left his body.


    His troops watched in stunned horror. Their mighty leader—gone in an instant.


    Then Asael’s weapons descended upon them.


    Blades sliced through flesh.


    Spears impaled massive frames.


    One beastman tried to flee.


    An axe cleaved his legs off, leaving him to crawl helplessly before a sword ended him.


    Their roars turned to screams.


    Their screams turned to silence.


    And then—


    Only the innocent remained.


    The defenseless.


    The helpless.


    The ones who could do nothing but shake in terror.


    Asael floated above them.


    His golden aura still burned, bright and merciless.


    His weapons, drenched in blood, hovered—


    Blades poised to strike.


    Spears eager to pierce.


    Lances ready to tear through flesh and bone.


    The children clung to their parents, their tiny hands gripping for comfort that no longer existed.


    The elders closed their eyes, whispering prayers to gods who would not answer.


    There was no hope left.


    And above them—


    Asael stood, bathed in golden light.


    A Hero of the Gods.


    A merciless executioner.


    "Oh! Merciful Goddess of Aria! Please protect your child from straying from his path!"


    Anne''s voice trembled, her hands clasped so tightly that her knuckles turned white.


    Tears streamed down her face as she lifted her gaze to the heavens, eyes wide with desperate faith.


    "Oh! Benevolent Mother of All! Please help your poor children!"


    Lily and Magnum followed, their voices raw with pleading, thick with sorrow.


    Desperation bled into every syllable, a cry not just for mercy, but for salvation.


    Even Steven, exhausted and broken, managed to whisper a prayer, his lips barely moving, breath shallow and weak.


    The Dwarf King, ever the skeptic, felt something heavy settle in his chest.


    An icy dread curled around his heart, yet he too bowed his head, muttering words of hope, words he was not sure anyone would hear.


    Above them—


    Asael’s weapons hovered in the air, gleaming like celestial instruments of divine punishment.


    They trembled, vibrating with barely contained fury, poised to strike down the last of the beastmen.


    But then—


    A voice.


    Soft. Soothing. Divine.


    "Stop it, my child."


    "Do not lose yourself to darkness, chosen one."


    "Be merciful, hero."


    The voices were not mortal.


    They carried an ethereal weight, pressing into his very soul, commanding obedience.


    Asael’s golden gaze flickered.


    His weapons wavered, lowering slightly.


    For a moment—


    A brief, fleeting moment—


    It seemed like he would stop.


    Like he would listen.


    But then—


    Another voice slithered into his mind.


    Darker. Colder.


    It coiled around his thoughts like a serpent, hissing with quiet, insidious malice.


    "Kill them."


    The whisper was soft—yet it drowned out all others.


    The divine voices screamed in protest.


    "No! Stop!"


    But they faded as they reached his ears.


    Vanished before he could think.


    And then—


    Asael’s golden eyes blazed, brighter than before.


    Like twin suns, ready to consume everything in their wake.


    His weapons trembled once more—


    Then moved.


    Fast.


    Deadly.


    Merciless.


    The first line of beastmen never even had time to react.


    Spears shot forward, piercing chests with a sickening crunch.


    Blades cleaved through ribcages, splitting flesh and shattering bone.


    Blood erupted into the air, thick and hot, splattering the ground in crimson pools.


    A lion beastman gasped, his wide, disbelieving eyes staring down at the weapon lodged deep in his heart.


    He clutched at it weakly, but his legs gave out before he could even scream.


    A wolf mother turned, arms wrapped protectively around her son.


    The blade did not stop.


    It ran through her first—


    Then her child.


    The boy''s small, trembling hand reached for his mother, fingers barely brushing her lifeless face before his body collapsed beside hers, his eyes still open, frozen in silent horror.


    The massacre had begun.


    And it would not stop.


    A young dog boy sprinted through the chaos, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst.


    The air was thick with the scent of blood, filled with the dying screams of his people.


    He looked back.


    His best friend, a young rhino beastman, lay on the ground, moaning, struggling to rise.


    He was alive.


    The dog boy turned back.


    He could escape.


    He could run.


    He could live.


    But then—


    He made a choice.


    He turned back toward his friend.


    "Get up!" he cried, grabbing the rhino''s shaking shoulders. "We have to—"


    The words never finished.


    A sword tore through his back.


    The blade’s tip erupted from his chest.


    His body jerked violently, his ears twitching, his hands trembling.


    He turned his head slightly, his wide, uncomprehending eyes meeting the rhino’s.


    His mouth opened—


    But no words came.


    Blood spilled from his lips.


    And then—


    He collapsed.


    Face-first into the dirt.


    The rhino beastman screamed.


    And then he too fell silent.


    The young cat, hawk also tried to protect each other.


    But they also met their end.


    One by one—


    They all fell.


    The old.


    The young.


    The warriors.


    The defenseless.


    Blades ripped through bodies.


    Spears tore through throats.


    Heads rolled onto the blood-soaked ground.


    The once-proud city of Beastwell had become a graveyard of corpses.


    And at the center of it all—


    Asael stood.


    Bathed in golden light.


    His holy aura flickered, brilliant and blinding—


    Yet his feet stood in pools of blood.


    The hero of the gods had become a butcher.


    A merciless executioner.