When the dust finally settled, Arion was the only one left standing.

Bailey, Willem, Anthony, Batuul, the three elite assassins from Eskus, and several gods from the Hall of Gods were either dead or gravely injured.

Willem's body had been blasted into countless pieces. Each fragment wriggled on the ground as it struggled to piece together. Batuul fared even worse. He was utterly obliterated, leaving no trace behind, not even ashes.

On the contrary, Bailey and the three Eskus assassins had both their arms severed and were gravely wounded.

Though Anthony's limbs were still intact, his crushed internal organs left him coughing up blood. The backlash from the demonic blade had also taken a devastating toll on his body.

He now appeared decades older, his face gaunt and hollow, his hair gray. His frail frame made him look like a man standing at death's door.

"H-How is this possible? No… this can't be happening!" Bailey's expression was a mixture of shock and disbelief as he stared a