Ethan puffed his cheeks in protest, but within moments he deflated, slouching on the spot. "Fine, fine, I’m trash. What do you want me to do about it."
Oliver’s jaw clenched. Since childhood he had followed his master Usher across countless Infinite Dimensions worlds. He’d seen prodigious adventurers, divine weapons, and even the heirs of gods. Whoever opposed him was cut down one way or another. He had butchered demonkind beyond counting and long ago stepped into the ranks of God-tier adventurers.
Everything he had learned, everything he had fought for, was for the day he could kill his enemy with his own hands.
But when he returned to Earth, he discovered that his enemy’s woman had borne twins, pampered and protected. A boy named Ethan, and a girl named Sophia.
The moment Oliver learned this, fury consumed him. To him, his enemy had betrayed his mother Riley. More than once, he had considered murdering the children.
But by then, Godslayer was already Earth’s dominant guild. Even Dragon’s Kiss, led by his own master, had to bend to their authority.
The Godslayer Guildmaster was an enigma, his power terrifying. At his side stood another god-tier berserker, none other than Earth’s strongest fighter, the one the galaxy called the Infinite Dimensions Mad Dragon—Kyle, Isla’s father.
Oliver did possess a secret relic capable of denying World Tree resurrection. But he never found the right moment to strike.
When they descended upon Earth, the Godslayer alliance fought and fell. Those who had served Oliver’s enemy fled to Mars.
Oliver had no choice but to swallow his rage and join them.
Under his master’s orders, he later approached Godslayer for recognition as kin. The goal was clear: unite all Earth’s strength, someday, to reclaim their home.
Proud as he was, Oliver despised Ethan for being a spoiled heir. But blood was blood. Ethan was still his half-brother, and just like him, an S-tier awakened talent. So Oliver buried his killing intent and took on the role of brother and father both, constantly cleaning up Ethan’s messes.
Sophia was far less trouble. At only sixteen, she had already stepped into King-tier strength, surpassing even her mother Blank. She was on track to become the strongest rogue across eleven Infinite Dimensions worlds.
"Raise the curtain. Finals begin!"
The lizard-faced host bellowed. The waiting room gates swung wide.
"Hold strong, brother."
Among the hosts, a weary-looking man kept his eyes fixed on the split-screen feed of the crucifix.
"What do you think, old stump? How long can they last?" The lizard sneered.
"Everyone knows Belenor, the son of the God of Strength, outclasses normal King-tier adventurers. Once he opens his domain, they won’t last an hour." The weary man forced a smile.
"An hour? Please. They’ll be lucky to last five minutes against him."
"Of course. Belenor is unstoppable."
The weary man bobbed his head, appeasing.
He was SirLagsALot, once Earth’s highest-paid host, a celebrity who had lived like a king. He had been Godslayer’s mouthpiece, a bridge between Earth and the galaxy, a giant in Earth’s entertainment scene.
Now he sat with a knife at his throat, forced to play emcee for alien overlords. The supposed ceasefire between gods and the Godslayer remnants was a joke. Using him as a host was just another way to humiliate Earth’s people.
Ethan’s team drew a deep breath and stepped onto the Star Cup battlefield. Everyone but Oliver showed traces of nerves.
"No healers. Stick to the plan," rumbled a broad-shouldered youth in gray forbidden-armor etched with bloodwolf sigils.
This was Aaron, son of Forever City’s iron cavalry. Only eighteen, he had already inherited the title of Godslayer’s First Knight. An S+ Saint of Starsteel, he was one step away from King’s Authority. With his natural thorns talent, he barely needed to lift a hand—enemies who struck him often killed themselves.
"Wait... what about me? Don’t I count as a healer?"
A small head popped up between them, belonging to a boy of maybe thirteen. His wide, clear eyes made him look easy to trick.
"You? Please. You drain more mana than you heal." Ethan snapped.
This was Finn, son of the Little Priest. An S+ Blood-Curse Priest. At birth, he had sucked dry the mana of every living being within a hundred miles. His signature move, Hunger, leeched his allies’ mana reserves. The more he drained, the more devastating his mass resurrections and heals became.
Like his father, he was notorious for sabotaging his own side. Entire mage squads had cursed his name. And Ethan, with his absurd mana pool, was Finn’s favorite victim.
"If we run into Belenor’s squad, don’t engage. Retreat. I’ll cover you."
Oliver’s tone was flat. Of the eight finalist teams, only Belenor posed even a slight threat. The rest were gnats.
But with a dozen gods now entrenched on Earth, killing Belenor outright could ignite war with his father, the Strength God. That would be apocalypse for Earth’s adventurers.
"You stay on me. You don’t move without my say-so."
Oliver’s glare bore into Ethan. The kid’s disobedience was routine. He needed a leash.
"Annoying. You’re not my dad." Ethan muttered.
A vein pulsed on Oliver’s temple. If the real father were here, Oliver would have abandoned everything just to cut him down.
Chloe lifted her eyes toward the crucifix, whispering.
The veiled Velorith shifted, and a colossal dragon surged skyward, its scales etched in battle-marks. It carried them all on its back.
A roar split the skies. White lightning cascaded around her, echoing the dominion once held by Draconis, Lord of Heaven.
"Holy crap. A dragon to rival the star-beasts!"
"If that old fossil sees his former battle-pet turned against him, he’ll choke on the irony. Weak Earth deserves this!"
From the watching warships, nobles from across worlds jeered.
The storm-bright dragon drew the attention of rival teams.
"That beast was our trophy," sneered a curvaceous elf with dark-green hair. Her face was flawless, her skin pale as ivory. The pointed ears marked her as native to the ancient world of Transcendent Dimensions, a world said to have inspired many of the humanoid races across the Infinite Dimensions era.
"Damiron, if you think it’s yours, then take it back."
A seated figure rose. His voice was like rolling thunder, his body a three-meter wall of metal flesh. Naked, every ripple of his muscle gleamed with divine strength.
"No... it’s Belenor. We’re finished."
"Withdraw! Now! He can kill us outright, resurrection or not!" Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs novelFirｅ.net
Nearby, young adventurers paled, ready to surrender without a fight.
A ghostly blur passed them, and six heads hit the ground before they realized they’d been touched.
Belenor stood among them. The son of the God of Strength. A trueborn godchild. A man who could rip high-ranked demons apart with his bare hands.