Chapter 886 - 885: The Gods Before You

"You sound surprised," Lord Enigma said.

The God of War did not answer immediately. His eyes moved over the black scales, then settled on the faint teal light surrounding them.

Simon felt the fingers around his throat loosen slightly. He drew a shallow breath without attempting to free himself.

The god was no longer watching him.

"A remnant of the last," the God of War said at last.

Enigma smiled.

"Yes. A living and true blooded one. Apparently, that part troubles you."

"Your kind should have disappeared."

"And yours should have learned to confirm a death before celebrating it."

The god’s expression became chilly. Iron-grey Aether gathered closer to Darius’s body instead of spreading outward. His remaining hand still held Simon, but his stance shifted beneath him.

He was preparing for something, and Simon noticed this.

He had watched the god face nine Demon Lords without treating their numbers as a serious obstacle. Now a single Supreme Demon Lord stood above him, and the god had adjusted his footing.

’It isn’t just about the Heart rank... He’s taking a Daemon very seriously.’

"You mistake survival for strength," the God of War said. "Hiding long enough to outlive your betters does not make you their equal."

"Our betters?"

Enigma’s smile faded.

"You have spent too long listening to your own worshippers."

The pale mantle stirred as he descended a little, remaining above the gully.

"The Daemons of old fought gods who would have made your generation lower its head. The true gods of that age. Not mere beings carrying a borrowed power."

The God of War’s eyes narrowed, and so did Simon.

’A borrowed power?’

"And the greatest of our elders stood above even them," Enigma continued. "Before you dismiss us as remnants, remember what we are remnants of."

Simon became very still.

He knew gods had not always been unchallenged. So many things had already made him question why demons could no longer reach their past heights.

But this was something else.

Enigma was not describing a race that had merely managed to resist the gods. He was speaking of Daemons who had surpassed the ancient beings the present gods themselves looked back upon.

"You speak of dead monsters as though they are standing beside you," the god replied.

Lord Enigma scoffed while folding his arms.

"And you speak as though you were the one that killed them."

Silence settled over the gully.

A pebble rolled down the slope and stopped beside the god’s boot.

Enigma looked at him without lowering his gaze.

"Your predecessors knew why a Daemon’s name mattered. You needed me to explain why my presence offended you."

"And where are those magnificent elders now?"

Lord Enigma’s gaze became slightly cold.

"They might be no more, but the same can also be said for the older gods."

The god’s mouth curved into a smile.

"I see... doesn’t that mean that your strength did not save you?"

"Being stronger than an enemy is not the same as surviving everything that ends an age."

Enigma let the words settle.

"You are the God of War. Surely you understand the difference between winning a fight and surviving a war."

Simon wanted to ask what had ended that age.

He remembered the vision of Hell’s Sword Daemon, the black flames, and the warning about beings whose names he had not been able to hear.

’The gods weren’t the summit even in their own ancient history?’

He had no way to judge every claim Enigma made. But the god had challenged the dead Daemons’ absence, not denied what they had been capable of.

That distinction stayed with him.

The God of War looked down at Simon.

"Is that why you came?"

His gaze sharpened as it passed over the one-horned demon’s damaged arms.

"The body. The affinities it accommodates. The things he has been able to survive ..."

Simon kept his expression calm and composed.

"Daemon blood."

The words were quiet.

"That would explain some of it."

The God of War understood that having a Daemon bloodline can only explain some of the strange things about Simon, but not the sword.

And not everything he had sensed within the demon’s mind. But enough to make the god study Simon with a new intensity.

Enigma said nothing.

"Why expose yourself for him?" the god asked. "You have remained hidden until now. Was this child worth telling me that your kind still exists?"

"I would like to see what he becomes."

"You could have watched from a distance."

"You were about to kill him. That would have made watching considerably less interesting."

The answer came without hesitation.

Simon looked between them.

He had become something two powerful beings wished to examine. Enigma’s intervention was welcome, but it did not make the attention comfortable.

The God of War lowered him.

His knees struck the ground. Before Simon could move, an invisible pressure settled across his shoulders, holding him beside the crooked boulder.

He could breathe again.

He coughed, keeping the Chaos Blade close while Unholy Regeneration worked through the bruising around his throat.

The god had not released him out of kindness.

He no longer wanted his only hand occupied.

"This one has become more important," the God of War said.

He gave no indication whether that made Simon safer.

Enigma’s eyes moved briefly toward the pressure holding him down.

"Then try not to break him before we finish speaking."

"You will not be deciding what happens to him."

The god’s remaining hand opened. Crimson light travelled down the black band covering its back.

"I will kill you first."

Enigma regarded him calmly.

"For being a Daemon?"

"For giving me a reason to regret allowing you to finish introducing yourself."

The threat did not make Enigma retreat.

"You have been threatening creatures that cannot answer you all day," he said. "I understand how you developed the habit."

Simon’s fingers tightened slightly.

The god had killed the Seven Seats for less.

But the pale mantle above him remained untouched by the gathering pressure. Enigma was watching the god’s left hand, his expression unhurried.

"I am curious about something myself," he continued.

"Curiosity will not preserve you."

"Your chosen’s World-Sovereign Physique."

For the first time, the God of War’s hand became still.

Simon looked up sharply.

’A physique?’

"The prince was a poor choice of audience," Enigma said. "You explained so much, and he could barely stop trembling long enough to appreciate it."

The god’s eyes narrowed.

"You were listening."

"Well, you were not whispering."

Enigma lifted one hand. Teal light moved beneath the scales of his fingers.

"I would like to see how that inner world compares to my World Serpent bloodline."

The God of War looked directly at him.

"Then look carefully."

His hand swept sideways.

There was no invocation.

A thin iron-grey edge left his fingers and crossed the distance before Simon could finish drawing breath. A crimson thread burned along it, so narrow that the attack seemed almost insignificant.

Simon knew better.

He had seen a gesture just as effortless nearly divide his own body.

Enigma did not step aside.

Teal light flashed across his throat and wrists. For an instant, his entire outline seemed to lift away from him.

The cut struck.

SHIIING!

A diagonal line opened through his chest.

Simon’s eyes narrowed.

A thin, transparent shell had risen from Enigma’s body just before the edge reached him. Its surface carried overlapping scales, copying the shape of his shoulders, arms, and head.

The attack had divided that empty covering instead.

Its upper half turned in the air. The lower portion slid free, and the iron-grey edge broke into sparks between them.

Behind the falling shell, Enigma remained exactly where he had been.

No blood marked his robes. His exposed chest was unbroken, and not one strand of his silver-white hair had been cut.

The discarded skin blackened along the place it had been struck. Then both halves curled inward and dissolved into teal light, taking the remaining hostile Aether with them.

Simon stared.

’He shed the defence before the force reached his body.’

The God of War lowered his hand slightly. The scrutiny in his eyes deepened.

Enigma brushed a fading fragment from his shoulder.

"That was for a demon," he said softly.

"Try again."The last