The situation was the absolute worst. But finally, the real fight was about to begin.
"…Heh… Hahaha…"
I pushed myself up from the pile of collapsed rubble, spitting out a mouthful of blood. I felt like at least a few ribs were shattered. Every breath brought the metallic tang of blood back up my throat as my internal organs screamed in agony. Despite the sheer, grinding pain, my eyes were burning colder than they ever had before.
The bastard's nine heads were finally looking at me with something other than mockery. It was a look of genuine interest.
[Oho. You have some spine, Usurper. I took you for a mere common thief, but it seems you possess a sliver of the qualities of a King.]
Was that a compliment? I’ll take it. I wiped the blood from my chin with the back of my hand and smirked.
'Analysis complete.'
I had finally found the thread of a solution.
His defense possessed an absolute advantage against external physical or energetic assaults. However, law interference that targeted the internal—specifically 'Curse' type Authorities—seemed to at least register. Even if he could eventually purge them with his overwhelming divine power!
That meant there was only one answer.
I would use a curse to force a fracture in his absolute defense, and in that split second, I would shove my most destructive Authority right through the crack!
"Let's see how this feels…!"
I once again condensed Medusa's Authority in my left hand. This time, I wasn't aiming for a complete petrification of his entire mass. I honed the ashen curse into something as thin and sharp as a needle—a 'key' designed to pierce the weakest joint in his divine aura.
"Turn to stone and be silenced!"
Creeeeeak!
Exactly as predicted, for the briefest heartbeat, ashen fractures spread across his pale, clammy skin. The god let out a scoffing laugh, exploding his divine power to push the curse out of his system.
Now!
I didn't let that window of less than 0.1 seconds slip by. I poured every ounce of the Sky’s Authority I had been condensing in my right hand into the gap.
"Pierce him, Breath of the Firmament!"
A massive spear, formed by compressing Tāwhirimātea’s gale into a single point, slammed down toward the fractured curse. This was on a completely different level from my previous strikes—a decisive blow into which I had poured my very soul.
SHWAAAAAAAAAANG—!
…And yet. Nothing happened.
"...What?"
The phenomenon occurring before my eyes defied all logic.
My storm-spear didn't even reach him. It simply dissolved in mid-air like a shimmering mirage. It wasn't blocked, and it wasn't deflected. It just… vanished. It was as if the very 'concept' of my Authority had been erased from that specific coordinate in space.
[Khahaha…!]
One of the nine heads erupted in contemptuous laughter.
"Impossible…! I clearly saw the fracture!"
I gritted my teeth and churned my divine power again. This time, it wasn't a storm, but lightning that cleaved the heavens. The fastest and sharpest power in my arsenal.
Once more, I used Medusa's curse to create a momentary rift, and I drove the thunderbolt through that gap.
"Gather, O Sky! Spear of Thunder, come to my hand!"
RUMBLE—!
A flash bright enough to sear my retinas shot toward the bastard. But the result was identical. Just before touching his body, the massive lightning strike vanished into nothingness, like ink dissolving in water. This time, the other heads joined in the mockery.
[Are you still refusing to give up? You worm.]
[With such meager power, you cannot hope to leave so much as a scratch.]
"Shut up!"
Amidst the confusion that threatened to paralyze my reason, I bet on the last remaining possibility. If ranged attacks didn't work, what about direct contact? I kicked off the ground and lunged at him. I kept firing the curse from my left hand to induce defense fractures while wrapping the power of the wind around my right hand like a blade.
"I'll tear your shell apart myself!"
I succeeded in closing the distance to point-blank range. I saw the ashen cracks seeping into his chest again. Elated, I drove my fist—wreathed in the blade of the gale—straight into that crack!
BOOOOOM—!
But my fist never touched his body. Instead, the gale Authority wrapped around my arm backfired with an explosive surge, tearing into my own flesh.
"Gaaaah!"
As if shooing away a nuisance of a fly, his massive palm swept out and batted my blood-spattered body away. I crashed into the ground, gasping for air as I forced my head up.
The reality before me was far more despairing than the sensation of my bones shattering.
Every single attack had been utterly useless. Not a single scratch marred his form.
[Khahaha…! Khahahahahaha!]
The nine heads burst into laughter so intense it looked like they might roll on the floor. That laughter held not only contempt but a patronizing pity, as if they were witnessing the ignorance of a toddler.
[Do you still not understand, Usurper? Why your power can never reach me!]
I couldn't answer. My mind was scorched white. Open a fracture with a curse, then pour in an Authority. It was a perfect theory. But the result was a zero-damage failure. What was the principle behind this?
The god walked slowly toward my bloody mess of a self, speaking as if he were a tutor instructing a student.
[The gods you have usurped are mere half-beings, shackled to a single Authority, a single law. A God of Storms governs only storms; a God of Curses governs only curses. But I am different.]
His nine pairs of eyes glowed with an eerie light.
[Have you ever heard of it? The phenomenon where various myths and faiths intermingle, allowing a single entity to embody multiple divinities. We and the humans call it 'Mythic Syncretism.']
"Syncretism…?"
[Indeed. In the distant lands of India, there was once one called the Devil King of Lanka. From Brahma, the Creator, he obtained immortality so absolute that neither god nor demon could kill him. From Shiva, the Destroyer, he obtained infinite power and armaments to end the world. He was a King who contained within one body the mutually exclusive Authorities of Creation and Destruction.]
Suddenly, I felt the blood drain from my face. My thoughts ground to a halt. No way.
[Yes, it seems you've caught on. My very existence is the crystallized result of 'Syncretism'! The Authority of Steel to endure the pressure of the underworld, the Authority of Lightning to command the fury of the heavens, the Authority of Glacial Frost to freeze all things… fragments of countless gods are churned within me to form this single 'Me'!]
If what he said was true…!
[The power of the Sky you fired was neutralized in the face of the sky’s power sleeping within me. Authorities of the same attribute are merely absorbed by a more powerful, higher-tier concept! That is the difference in rank between me, who possesses the vessel of a King, and you, who obtained power through mere petty theft! Let me re-introduce myself. I am the Devil King of Lanka, the one who receives the breath of Brahma and the protection of Shiva… the Ten-Headed King of the Underground Realm, Ravana!]
[I shall sing with ten heads. I am the one who harbors the darkness of the underworld and the flames of Shiva simultaneously—the King of Conquerors and the God of Thieves!]
The moment he proclaimed his true name, a cataclysmic shift occurred.
CRACK-RACKLE! His massive, pale flesh began to fracture hideously. These were not wounds. It was like an old skin being shed; the shell known as the Great Rogue of the Underground shattered into pieces.
From within, a far more ominous and overwhelming existence manifested.
The pitch-black skin and the towering, heaven-piercing stature remained, but the pressure was in a different dimension entirely. Multiple new arms sprouted from his back, each clutching a wicked divine armament, while his body was now clad in brilliant gold armor that seemed forged in the fires of hell itself. His nine heads increased to ten, shifting into the visages of demons far more cunning and cruel than before. The ten pairs of eyes looking down at me held the light of primordial chaos and destruction.
The vague phantom of the Great Rogue had vanished, and a completed 'Myth' itself had descended.
The compatibility was a nightmare.
No matter what Authority I used, the odds were that he already contained a superior version of that power. If I fired a storm, he would smother it with a greater storm. If I called down lightning, he would swallow it with a grander bolt. The battle itself was fundamentally flawed.
[Now, the play is over.]
Ravana lowered a massive iron mace from his shoulder with one of his many arms, leveling it at me. This really was the end.
'…No.'
Just as I was about to abandon everything, a final spark within me refused to go out.
It wasn't Tāwhirimātea, and it wasn't Medusa.
It was the most fundamental, primal power I had usurped last in Hawaii—the Authority of Pele, the Hawaiian Volcano Goddess who wields the primordial fire.
'Right… Pele’s Authority was different from the others. It wasn't simply the power to manipulate fire and lava.'
Her power was 'Creation' and 'Destruction.' The very heart of the earth that molds new land from nothingness and melts everything in existence back into its origin. It wasn't a collection of syncretized fragments, but a power that governed the start and the end of all things.
In that case… couldn't I 'purify' this impure existence made of mixed powers back into its primal, natural state?
"…Heh… Hehehehe…"
I couldn't help but let out a laugh.
It was a sound that mixed the laughter of hope with the manic cackle of a madman.
[Have you finally lost your mind at the eleventh hour?]
I stumbled to my feet. Inside my blood-soaked body, a searing sensation I had never felt before began to boil up from my heart. It felt as if my very existence was becoming a massive forge.
I pointed a blood-stained finger directly at the bastard.
And with a new awakening, I whispered the true Incantation of the goddess.
"My Hearth is the crucible that melts all things back into the beginning; thus, I shall incinerate that impure being and commence my pure creation!"
From my fingertips, crimson lava bloomed. But it didn't just flow like liquid as it had before. It contained a pure white heat that seemed ready to swallow all light, condensing into the shape of a single, perfect 'Spear.'
"O sacrifice offered to my Hearth, surrender your very soul to the altar—Pāoa!"
WHOOOOOSH!
A spear forged of pure white magma rested in my hand. The space around it distorted into heat hazes from the temperature alone.
I aimed the tip of the spear at him and handed down my low-voiced sentence.
"Ravana, the Ten-Headed King of the Underground… you patchwork god stitched together with the stolen powers of many. I’ll melt every last one of those filthy syncretic Authorities with my primordial flame."
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