I Became the Wrong Race

194 – Life and Death (8)

Llewellyn’s miraculous manifestation is to read the life of one of those touched by the pulse and completely recreate that life.

Understand and fully address. It could be said that his ability to copy was superior to hers. They bring all the skills and experience they have accumulated, but Llewellyn’s physical ability is far superior.

Miracle change began with turning that pulse inward.

Reading and bringing back the lives of others who died with their own hands in order to read my soul.

Even the subject matter was not limited to technology.

Magic, contract.

It doesn’t matter what. Anything can be imitated. Llewelyn’s divinity was the power that could make that possible.

And with that power in her hands, Llewelyn knew that, even if only for a moment, her eyes had met a ‘star’.

Also, the fact that she willingly handed over her power even when confronted.

Why on earth?

Why does she willingly give her power to someone who kills her favorite person and takes that power and uses it?

Llewelyn didn’t know.

There is just one thing to know.

Wow!

The purple-hot sword body advanced. The god of death cut off her her arms that had been stretched out to block it and headed towards her her neck her her her.

Kaang!

The god of death responded in that short period of time. I pull out the North Wind stuck in my shoulder and block it by pulling Lucilla’s wrist.

Her outstretched sword was unable to overcome the North Wind, and Llewelyn was thrown backwards, allowing her abdomen to fall on her outstretched legs.

However, it is a temporary measure. Llewelyn and Lucilla knew that.

Floating in the air, Llewelyn uses her anti-magic power to come to a sudden stop with her her footing her her her her, closing the distance between her and her. Her great sword, which she held from her right hand to her left, flew in a large arc.

The god of death saw the sword flying like that, and felt the power and unfamiliar power contained in the sword strike, and engraved its trajectory in his eyes.

Beautiful yet simple.

But sometimes simple things are the strongest. It was like that godhead.

Also, in most cases, the simplest answer is the right one. The god of death stretched out his arms.

Squeak!

A severed arm rises into the sky. It doesn’t move anymore. At the place where the nova was cut off, it glowed like a burning filament.

It is the power of the transcendent. The power of the transcendent, otherwise called ‘star’.

It dug into the divinity of the god of death as if to show its pride his. The arm is cut off, but the strength remains and it digs deeper.

The target is the neck. From a single blow to a heading.

If you get hit, you die. Without hesitation, the god of death opened his mouth and bit down on the blade.

The tongue burns and falls off, and the power contained in the sword tears the lower jaw.

But thanks to that, I was caught by the black teeth for a moment. Insufficient force to decapitate.

While Llewelyn twitched the corners of his eyes, the god of death struck away the blade with his severed forearm and moved.

I briefly stretched out my leg and kicked.

With the force generated by kicking Llewelyn, he turns his body and pushes Lucilla, who is holding him from behind, and then hits Lucilla’s next two short fists with her severed forearms.

Dented flesh regenerates.

A power that has the same name but symbolizes a different star.

The star created from the core was different from the ‘star’ built with unholy knowledge.

In other words, it is the base of a ‘star’. However, the heat is not equal but overwhelms.

A pain that comes even if only for a moment. The god of death moved among the scattered divinity while feeling pain.

Run forward, leaving behind the fallen lower jaw. Turn her her her her her body her her her as if to shake off her her the hand her her her holding her her her, and kick her her with her her waist her her.

The siblings rushed towards me faster than the flying blood drops hitting the ground.

The god of death looked at the siblings.

She did not take back what she said.

She had no reason to turn back and had no intention of doing so.

There were no hard feelings. There was no hatred or anything like that left.

Because all of this was her own fault. She moved for what she had to do.

Killing the new godhead, killing the godhead’s lover’s sister, and even killing the dream god to revive life through any means possible.

The small possibility was not even an obstacle.

Rather, I know that if I give up because there is no possibility, nothing will happen.

She struggled, resisted, stretched out her hands to get what she wanted.

Sigh!

Kick her her in the head her her her with her her outstretched legs her her her.

Her her molten her bones her her her tilt her, Lucilla counters with her her spin her her her, having been kicked in the head her.

A side kick that cuts open the heart. However, even after being hit, it is still fine. An ominous feeling that made her hair shake as she rolled around on the floor.

She dodged by throwing her body to the side of her, rolling on her floor and covering her in dust.

There was a thought that it was a disgrace. I just didn’t care.

Survive here and now. Survive and achieve your goal. She moved with that single thought.

She had a job to do.

But.

Squeak!

There is nothing in this world that can be achieved with will, faith, and determination alone. The god of death invaded his vision of her and saw a sword slashing through his left shoulder her her her her.

It is a sword strike dyed purple. A blue blade with red flames.

Therefore, it was a sword strike that burned in a duller color than the darkness of the demonic world that enveloped the surroundings. The shoulder blade was cracked and falling along the long purple sword mark left along the sword path.

Clean and clear scars. Normally, I would have chosen to play, but playing doesn’t work.

There was deep power in that sword strike. Knowledge and power that does not belong to this world, that naturally decomposes and devours divinity.

The god of death instead jumped forward and moved his severed arms and legs her.

Sigh!

She hits Lucilla with her elbow and kicks her, who lunges at her from behind, pushing her through the armor with her severed shoulder.

As soon as distance arises, they try to unite the divinity, but it is not easy.

Lucilla and Llewelyn running back and forth.

Her fist aimed at her and fired. When she twisted her head to avoid it, her cheek was torn and blood was flowing, and then the outstretched blade of the sword was struck by her arm, which cut off her wrist.

With flesh being cut and falling and blood flying.

The god of death paradoxically felt death getting closer.

Little by little, parts of me that were part of me are being cut away. Head-butting, even the scalp is cut off, the earlobes are cut off, and the side of the face is cut large, exposing the bones.

Her became clouded, and her attacks gradually diminished as she struggled to figure out if all of this had any meaning.

Only then did the god of death see Llewelyn.

Llewelyn’s face was visible from a part of her helmet that had been broken by her headbutt.

Her motivation was gone, her anger was clouded, and the hand holding her sword was shaking.

A weak heart is clearly revealed. It’s a gap. The god of death stepped forward.

“Dare.”

The body stopped with a muttering sound coming from behind.

Suddenly, I saw the hand digging into her her body unfold. It hits in a circle and the spine breaks and stops.

Regeneration lasted only a moment, but that moment was enough.

Llewelyn finally gritted her teeth and twisted her body wildly, swinging her cluster of stars.

Wow!

The leg is cut off. The leg that was severed slightly above the thigh rolled on the floor, and the god of death fell to the floor as if showing off.

Normally, it would be too much of a pain to give up. However, she struggled to get up, writhing with her motionless body.

She has not yet admitted defeat.

“… Give up.”

A voice muttering as if it couldn’t be seen. The God of Death looked up at Llewelyn at the faintly trembling voice.

There was no chance of winning from the beginning. The only chance is that death does not exist.

Even that was a means that had no choice but to end if it was regenerated until its divinity was exhausted.

But she tried.

If she didn’t struggle, there would have been no chance of her goal being achieved.

No matter how small it was, if she struggled, there would still be a slim possibility.

So she still didn’t give up.

I moved my one remaining leg.

She struggled to get up from her kneeling position.

She tried to get up using her right forearm as support.

Llewelyn was looking down at it with a painful expression.

Looking at that image, he unconsciously recalled the first time he saw the gods of life and death.

It looks like the same hideous thing I saw back then.

Only the eyes looking up at him were the same as before, but what he actually looked like was completely different.

Somehow she felt that Llewelyn was no different from when she first saw her.

At the same time, a person’s face also came to mind.

A wizard who chose death when his daughter died in his arms

Man-eating Baron, Beort Tomula.

It was the exact opposite.

It was definitely like that in that my precious person died and I continued to struggle even though there was no hope.

But for some reason, his face came to mind.

It wasn’t because it was so opposite.

For some reason, Llewelyn thought that seeing the god of death made her ‘desperate.’

Giving up wasn’t just about giving up because there was no hope.

Repeating fruitless attempts even though there was no hope was also desperation. The quality was even worse in that the opportunity was wasted.

So Llewelyn hesitated.

Maybe, it happened like this.

How can I convince them to join?

There is a god of dreams and a pantheon.

Yes, if we can find a way to revive the God of Life together.

Where the anger subsided, regret remained. It was a regret that I didn’t want to make it this miserable.

As the blade in Llewelyn’s hand trembled slightly, Lucilla looked at her younger sister blankly and approached her.

She took her sword from his hand and replaced it with her own her her her her.

She was Llewelyn’s older sister before she was his lover

And an older sister does hard work for her younger brother, and she also looks after the hardships.

She was willing to kill her god her for her her brother her her her.

It was a time when even the God of Dreams was so devastated that he couldn’t say anything.

Llewelyn made eye contact with the god of death.

The god of death met Llewelyn’s eyes and blinked at her.

He didn’t say anything or convey any meaning.

She simply dragged her gaze down to her ground.

When Llewellyn saw the god of death, she felt like a prisoner awaiting death at the execution site.

Surely, this is what I wanted from the beginning.

Llewelyn lowered her head to her approaching sister and held her sword in both hands.

Wow!

Soon, purple sword marks were painted once again on the land, which was completely stained with darkness and curses.

And Llewellyn found out late that Arva was wrong.

It is not the God of Life and Death that expands the Demonic Sutra, but the fact that God is dead.

The land where the gods died was slowly expanding.