Chapter 62: The God-Man

There are moments when the line between the human and the divine blurs.
Not because of miracles, nor divine punishment, but because of choices made at the very edge of despair.
Sometimes, a man looks to the heavens not for comfort, but to challenge them.
He raises his voice not to beg, but to demand.
For there are hearts that, after losing everything, choose not to break… but to burn.

Yet within that ambition — within that consuming, promising flame — lies a truth too heavy to bear:
that even absolute power does not guarantee understanding, nor redemption, nor love.

And what if, in the end, the man who sought to become a god only wished not to be forgotten?

The battle continues.
Not between men and gods — but between old wounds, broken promises… and the inevitable need to move forward.

——————————————————————————————————————————

The ground trembled with every step. The air tore like paper under the weight of an unstoppable energy.
Edén, shrouded in a dark, dense aura, charged straight toward Guayas — whose eyes, for the first time in ages, showed worry.

The impact was immediate. Edén’s sword sliced through the wind with brutal precision, and though Guayas tried to block, the force sent him flying like a leaf in a storm.
Both hit the ground, and the once-silent battlefield erupted into a storm of violent clashes that made the very sky quake.

From afar, Atahualpa watched.
A moment ago, he couldn’t keep up with me… and now I can’t even see him move. Just how strong is he? he thought, fists tightening.

The shockwaves rippled, invisible to ordinary eyes yet devastating to the land. Each time their blows met, the world itself seemed to crack.

Atahualpa’s gaze shifted for a moment to another part of the field — where Zero still struggled against the golden chains draining his energy.
Why did you bring me here? he murmured to himself, feeling that he’d been dragged not into a battle, but into a shapeless, ruleless trial.

Another clash of blades sent both warriors backward. Guayas dusted off his shoulders, frowning.
“Damn it… he’s getting faster every second. It won’t be long before he overtakes me. But… that face…”

Before him, Edén was smiling. Not with arrogance, not with contempt.
It was a pure, almost childlike smile — filled with emotion.

“What the hell is he so happy about? What excites him so much?”
Guayas snarled, rage bubbling.
“Sorry, rat! I don’t have time to waste with you. I have to kill… a god!”

A violent explosion of energy burst from his body, engulfing him completely.
“I’ll kill you with a single strike!”

Edén raised his sword firmly — still wearing that same serene smile.
“Come at me with everything you’ve got.”

“Final Breath of the Jaguar!”

A golden, spectral jaguar erupted from Guayas’ chest, roaring as it sped toward Edén at a speed that split the air itself.
But Edén had already begun focusing his own technique.

“Darkness Technique.”
Guayas laughed mockingly.
“You really think something that basic can stop me?”

The ground quaked beneath Edén’s feet. Pressure surged through his body, and from his hands, a living, burning dark flame burst forth.

“Cursed Black Flame!”

The two forces collided at the center of the field — two worlds refusing to coexist.
The jaguar roared before shattering into a thousand fragments, overwhelmed by Edén’s shadow-born power. The flame continued forward.

“Impossible!” Guayas screamed.
“Shield of the Last Bastion!”

But even that ancient defense couldn’t withstand it. The shield cracked under the weight of the attack and exploded in shards of light, leaving Guayas exposed.
The technique struck — carving a deep wound across his chest, burning his flesh with cursed intensity.

The man-god’s body hit the ground, smoking, wounded, trembling.
“I… I can’t win… I have to escape…”

He tried to take flight — but a shadow intercepted him before he could move.
“Where do you think you’re going?” whispered Edén, appearing right above him.

The blow that followed was devastating. Guayas slammed into the ground like a meteor, coughing blood.
“This… this can’t be! I—!”

But the words never finished. A barrage of punches silenced him, relentless and brutal.
He could barely lift his arms to defend himself.

“This is impossible… a human shouldn’t surpass a god… no matter how hard he tries… it’s useless…”

Edén looked down coldly, his crimson eyes blazing.
“Didn’t I tell you already? I stopped being human long ago.
And if protecting those I love means becoming a demon… then so be it.
I’ll become the most hated, the most feared demon of all.”

Guayas could barely stand.
“This is unfair! Why you? Why were you blessed by the gods?!
I… I sacrificed everything! Everything!
And still… I’m weak…”

Edén’s blade sank into Guayas’s side like a final verdict, but something in his hands faltered. The edge burned, the energy kept flowing… yet doubt stopped him.
“Dammit…” he whispered, eyes fixed on his enemy. “I’m supposed to hate you for everything you’ve done… so why do I hesitate?”

Guayas smiled — not with arrogance, but with an ironic, bitter curl. It was a smile no longer meant to wound, but to confirm something only he knew.

Suddenly a spear appeared from nowhere and pierced Edén’s leg, forcing him to drop to his knees. The pain was instant and brutal.
“Never trust anyone, boy,” Guayas growled, fixing him with a dry, hardened stare. “Least of all your enemies.”

Edén, still gasping, lifted his face.
“You speak from experience?”
“Yes…”

But Edén quickly returned his gaze, calm and steady.
“That’s a shame… because I can trust my comrades.”

At that very moment a second spear — this one thrown with absolute precision — drove into Guayas’s heart. The impact knocked the breath from him. His eyes flew wide.
“No… it can’t… be…”

Behind him, the imposing figure of Atahualpa descended steadily, without hesitation. There was no time for the moment to freeze. A few metres away, Zero had already wrapped his sword in a purple, deathlike energy.
“Sorry, demon,” he murmured, eyes fixed on Mammon. “But there’s no time left for games.”

Mammon roared from the depths of his throat:
“Damn human!”
“Danse macabre.”

In a flash, Zero vanished. Then the world seemed to shudder. The cuts came like an invisible whirlwind, a deadly dance that unleashed a storm of steel. Mammon didn’t even have time to react.
“Was that it?” he sneered. “That wasn’t—”

But his words dissolved into the air. An instant later, his body began to fill with thin marks, like cracks running through cursed glass. His laughter stopped. Everything glowed with an unnatural light… and Mammon exploded.

The blast was immense. A flare of cursed energy swept across the field, sending a black cloud into the sky. Everything halted. Only silence remained after the roar.

Zero sheathed his sword.
“Thank you, Anzu. Rest for now.”
“Yes, master,” responded the spirit’s faint voice, fading into the blade.

Zero returned to his usual form, breathing a little hard.
“Looks like we did it. Not bad, you two…”

The dust began to settle. In the distance, Guayas still writhed, clinging to the little life he had left. His body, drenched in blood, trembled. Yet his eyes remained defiant, proud even in defeat.

Atahualpa approached.
“It’s useless, Guayas… you’ve lost.”

The fallen man raised his gaze — wounded but still alive.
“I… I cannot lose. Not to two humans. I am a man… who is now a god!”

Instead of intimidating, the words filled Atahualpa’s face with anger and sorrow.
“Please…” he murmured, trembling with frustration. “Stop saying that stupid thing already. Don’t you see? That idea is what brought you here. That obsession is what destroyed everything.”

Guayas coughed blood.
“I am… weak. If only I had been stronger… I wouldn’t have had to sacrifice my people… to save you.”

The silence that followed was so complete the world seemed to stop.

Atahualpa stepped back, stunned.
“W-what did you say?”

Guayas offered a languid smile.
“Did I never tell you? Yes… it’s true… I never told you…”

“What did you do…?” Atahualpa whispered, voice breaking.
“That doesn’t matter now…”
“Idiot! Why!?”
“I told you…” Guayas replied almost in a sigh. “I couldn’t abandon my comrade…”

Atahualpa’s scream rolled like thunder. He struck the ground with both hands, helpless, desperate.
“Fuck!”

Guayas watched him, voice barely a murmur.
“What’s wrong? I thought people didn’t cry for the wicked…”

“I wasn’t only weak back then… I’m weak now too,” Atahualpa confessed, choking back tears. “You carried all of this… and I didn’t even see it…”

Guayas let out a faint laugh.
“I can’t allow… the great Inca king to tarnish his reputation… right?”

Atahualpa didn’t answer. He simply bowed his head.
“See you…” Guayas said, exhaling a last breath. “I hope to meet you in hell, bastard…”

And then he left.
With a smile that was no longer mockery or pride. It was rest. Liberation.

Atahualpa fell to his knees.
“I promise you, Guayas… I’ll make them pay for everything they did to you. I swear it…”

From a distance, Edén watched in silence. His sword still dripped blood. His hands trembled.
“Was all of this really necessary?” he thought, as the wind carried the battlefield smoke away. “Was there no other way…?”