Little Tyrant Doesn’t Want to Meet with a Bad End

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Grandar nodded at the confirmation and got rid of his hesitation.

The final showdown began under the starry night sky.

The desperate Flooding Death had condensed its body to the extent that it was nearly solid, and the sounds it verbalized sounded increasingly eerier.
It took a moment to familiarize itself with its new form before releasing numerous floods of black curses with a roar.

This attack was on a completely different scale from the earlier cursed rain.

Floods condensed with the vilest of curses gushed toward Roel from all directions, leaving little room for him to defend himself.

In response, Roel channeled his mana to its limits.
His Crown Origin Attribute resonated with fervor like never before, and the Crown’s Stones glowed with unprecedented brightness.
The frost aura he had scattered around quickly receded to form a clear ice barrier.

It looked as if countless terrifying black monsters were lurking in the silvery fog around Roel.

All of a sudden, a flood of curses crashed into the ice barrier with a loud bam, but it was blocked off by the ice barrier.
More floods followed soon after, but Roel correspondingly raised more ice barriers to block them out.

The violent clashes between the two powerful forces were spectacular, but neither seemed to have an advantage over the other.

That was because this was a mere distraction.
Behind these clashes, Flooding Death was making its final preparations.

A crevice had appeared in its black body, and it was focusing all of its mana there.
Countless curses flowed toward that single area, and they were endlessly compressed until it formed what was equivalent to a sphere of death.

As the conceptualization of death, Flooding Death’s true strength lay not in spreading curses but bestowing death.
At its peak, a mere glance was all it needed to bring about death.
Its presence naturally led everything to spiral to its demise.

Death Bestowal—this is the true ability of Flooding Death, as well as its final form.

The unprecedented threat from Roel convinced it to pay a heavy price to temporarily reach its mature state, a process that would have otherwise required over a thousand years of growth.

The tremendous accumulation of its mana looked dull and lackluster, but the power it harnessed was beyond imagination.
This unprecedented scale of mana pulsation and the ominous vibes coming from it attracted everyone’s attention.
Knowing that something bad was going to happen, the fighting soldiers began to tighten their defense formation.

At the same time, Grandar started gathering all the strength he had.
The blood-red crown on his head glowed brighter than ever.
He knew that it was not just a symbol of his own glory but Roel entrusting his life to him too.
That made him more determined than ever to win this battle.

A spatial crack appeared behind him, manifesting a desolate sunset plain that hadn’t appeared for a long time.
Under the cheers of the deceased warriors, the Giant Sovereign raised his arm and channeled his mana toward it, imbuing his fist with blinding light reminiscent of the sun.

Flooding Death released the ray encapsulating the purest concept of death with a snarl, whereas Grandar hurled his blinding fist that lit up the night sky downward.
With the screams of the dead and the roars of warriors, the forces of black and white finally collided.

The vast plain violently shook under the shockwave.

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The clash of the two forces induced ripples that changed their surrounding environments.
Half of the battlefield transformed into a barren land where everything immediately withered, whereas the other half was instantaneously encased in ice.

This standstill only lasted for a brief instant before the white light engulfed everything in a spectacular explosion.