“Enjoy a dream of mortality,” I said.
Nedneliaz activated, and I used Zola e Dypt once again. The hellfire chains drew a magic circle to activate a greater spell.
“There is no dream to be seen.”
The God of Demise took half a step forward, unaffected by Nedneliaz, and thrust the Withered Blade into my heart. Guzelami slipped past magic wards, barriers, flesh, and bones to slice apart my source with the scorching blade of demise. Blood gushed out of me, more blood of the Demon King’s spilled here at one time than in any past battle, corroding the sand below. Strays drops of it that flung into the air and landed on Anahem were even corroding his divine body.
“The castle built on sand collapses as Guzelami’s cry heralds the coming demise,” Anahem chanted, almost singing. “And without the slightest scratch of resistance, the curtains will fall.”
An eerie cry echoed throughout the desert. The sand palace began to shake heavily. The towers surrounding me collapsed back into formless sand.
“Withered Burial—Endblade Guzelami.”
Even my blood, the blood of the Demon King known to decay everything upon contact, was turning into sand before Guzelami’s blade. My bleeding stopped. Anahem shot me an evaluating glare.
“Blood dries, and the misfit perishes.”
The scorching reddish-white blade pushed deeper into my source.
“Even your source of destruction is a mere grain of sand before demise. There is nothing and no one this blade cannot end.”
“Oh? So this will be the first exception.”
I raised my head, a wide grin on my face. He stared back at me in clear shock.
“Wha...?”
Anahem was speechless as he watched me laugh.
“How...did you...”
He twisted the Withered Blade in my body further. And even though blood was dripping freely from my mouth, the panicked one between the two of us wasn’t me.
“Why?! How could this be?”
He shook, rattled, as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“You... You’ve long ended! Guzelami cannot feel any resistance. Your source has long met its demise!”
Anahem used even more of his strength to push Guzelami in further. I coughed up more blood, a grin still on my face.
“Why...do you laugh? Your life has ended... How could demise laugh before me? Is this a dream?” he spluttered.
“Bwa ha ha. Didn’t you say there was no dream, Anahem? You’re just an idiot, like I already said. Look closer into the abyss with your Divine Eyes,” I taunted. “Are you seeing my source, or nihility?”
Anahem withdrew the Withered Blade with a gasp. The end of the blade was missing—as though it had been swallowed by nothingness.
“Graham’s sourc—”
Before the God of Demise could retreat, I thrust my Aviasten Ziara hand into his belly. Blood spurted from his mouth.
“The Withered Blade can destroy a source with a single scratch,” I said. “If artificial sources cannot serve as a shield, then I just have to prepare a sturdier shield. And since I just so happen to have a source of nihility within me, I used that.”
I had caught Guzelami’s blade with Graham’s source of nihility that I kept within my own source. Anahem had gone on and on about his blade’s powers, but it was impossible for nothing to meet its demise.
“It seems you can’t end what doesn’t exist, God of Demise.”
I layered Vebzud on top of Aviasten Ziara and pierced through Anahem’s source.
“Urk... Gah... Hah...”
“Now it’s my turn. Gods that meet their demise end up in the Withered Desert. That’s why you cannot meet your end. But what if the divine domain itself were to perish?”
The layered magic circles formed a gun turret aimed at the sky of the Withered Desert. Jet-black particles gathered around it, drawing a seven-layered spiral. The God of Demise paled.
“Such reckless violence! If you do such a thing...”
“I have no need for endings,” I said curtly. “Egil Grone Angdroa.”
Anahem swallowed his breath. He could only watch me nervously and wait for his end.
“Bwa ha ha. Ha ha ha!” I laughed at his serious expression. “Forgive me, I just wanted to jest. There are times demise can serve as salvation. Without an end in sight, there are those who instead will be forced to suffer for eternity.”
With one arm still through Anahem’s body, I grabbed his face with my other hand.
“In other words, I just have to make it hurt without ending, right?”
I squeezed my hand and his body turned to sand, falling to the ground.
“You should have watched your feet.”
A coffin of darkness had been placed below the falling sand. The Zola e Dypt I used earlier had formed the circle for Behelius, but Anahem had failed to notice that, distracted as he was with my threat of Egil Grone Angdroa. The moment Anahem’s sand tried to escape from Behelius, the Nedneliaz collar fell last and struck the sand. Particles of darkness drew a cross shape.
The sand tried to crawl out of the coffin, but the magic barrier covering the coffin prevented it from leaving. Anahem returned to his divine body and slammed against the barrier with all his might, but it was impossible to break out of Behelius from the inside bare-handed. But his greatest weapon, the blade Guzelami, could only cut sources.
“This coffin of darkness uses the magic power of the corpse to keep it dying for eternity. As long as you have magic left, death itself will not end. Now I have a question. While you’re in the Withered Desert, do you ever run out of magic?”
As long as he kept dying, he wouldn’t perish. And as long as he didn’t perish, he wouldn’t revive.
“You... You dare humiliate Anahem, the God of Demise?! There is no such thing as a death that never ends! I won’t forget this nonsense, misfit! My life is built by me! When I get out of here, I will prove to you that everything you have is as frail as sand!”
“I know that already, Anahem.”
I pointed with magic in my fingertip and the Nedneliaz collar in the coffin wrapped around his neck.
When combined with Behelius, there was no way of defending against it.
“Life is fragile and precious, everyone building sandcastles they hope won’t just collapse. And that’s exactly why it needs protecting.”
The magic cross spread, widening until the coffin lid was sealed shut.