I Level Up by Killing Gods

It was the 20,764th attempt

The blade of the figure sliced through Kael's chest with accuracy that looked surgical, carving a deep, crimson line that almost brought him to his knees.

His left arm, already shattered from an earlier blow, hung limply at his side, the pain now a dull, persistent throb. Blood dripped steadily from his wounds, pooling under him as he staggered back.

Yet Kael's expression remained calm, almost indifferent.

He sighed through bloodied lips, his breath shallow but still steady, and watched as the figure stepped back, the same way it always did—wordless, patient, waiting for him to rise again.

Kael gestured with his unbroken hand, a silent command.

The figure complied, tossing the familiar flask through the air. Kael caught it easily, his movements was smooth despite the blood loss. He bit down on the cork, yanking it free, and tilted his head back to drink the bitter liquid. It slid down his throat, its taste as acrid and vile as ever.

This time, however, there were no violent convulsions, no agony induced screams as his body stitched itself back together. Instead, Kael only groaned lightly, exhaling a mist, cool and silvery.

He flexed his fingers, feeling the strength return to his limbs, and let out a slow breath.

"Again," the voice came, but it was Kael's this time low and resolute.

The figure kicked the sword toward him. Kael nudged it upward with his foot, catching the hilt effortlessly. He glanced at the text that had become his constant companion:

> ◇ 0.89090% memory unlocked.

Kael stared at the numbers for a moment, his grip on the sword becoming tighter. Nearly a thousandth of a percent. A fragment clawing back.

It was something—but not enough.

He turned to the figure, his expression sharp. Slowly, Kael began to walk to his side, and the figure mirrored him, their movements weirdly synchronized.

Each step was with intent, every footfall like an echo of the other. There was a shared confidence in their stride, a reflection of power and precision.

As they squared off, Kael's body thrummed with the rush of Blight. The chaotic force flowed through him with purpose, raw energy controlled as it moved through him.

In a blink, Kael disappeared, reappearing behind the figure with his body spinning, blade arcing toward his opponent with lethal intent.

The figure moved faster, raising its sword to meet Kael's strike. The clash of metal on metal rang out, sparks flew as their blades ground against each other.

Kael didn't relent.

He leaped forward, Blight surging in response. The surrounding air rippled as he unleashed multiple strikes, each one faster, more precise than the last.

The figure met him blow for blow, its movements as fluid as it were efficient.

For the first time, Kael held his ground. The Blight in him sharpened his instincts, amplifying his reactions and lending his body a strength it had never known. His strikes were no more clumsy or hesitant; they carried weight, purpose.

The figure's blade lashed out regardless, a blur of motion aimed at Kael's neck. Kael ducked low, his body twisting as he countered with an upward slash.

The figure sidestepped, but Kael was already moving again, driving his sword toward his opponent's chest. The figure blocked, but the force of the blow sent it skidding back slightly.

They paused, standing several feet apart, their breaths heavy, their swords raised. For a moment, neither moved. Kael's eyes burned with resolve, and for the first time, the figure's silence felt contemplative, almost impressed.

Kael shot at him.

The figure moved to intercept, but Kael was faster. Blight surged, and his blade slipped past the figure's guard, stopping just shy of its throat.

The edge hovered there, a hair's breadth from cutting deep.

Time felt as though it paused. The two stood without moving, their standoff silent but tense. The figure tilted its head slightly, its voice breaking the quiet.

"Congratulations."

Kael scoffed, his lips curling into a bitter smile. "Save it," he said, lowering the blade. "Besting a memory created by an infinitely shattered fragment of my past self is not much of an achievement."

He stepped back, his sword still in hand.

"How long have I been here?"

The figure's answered quickly. "It doesn't matter. The room you stand in is a memory of the Null. Time is non-existent."

Kael's left eye began to glow, a low gray light. The darkness around them twisted, the empty room dissolving like smoke caught in wind. The air became heavier, colder, as the new scene stretched around him.

Kael found himself standing in a desolate wasteland.

The sky was unnaturally gray, and the ground under him was littered with the bodies of gods, all their forms were twisted and broken in death. The divine radiance they posseed had since been lost, leaving just a haunting nothing.

Kael was slow to turn, his gaze drawn to the towering presence before him.

A great sword, a thousand feet long, was embedded in the ground, its dark blade radiating oppressive aura. Its surface was etched with jagged runes.

He took a hesitant step toward the colossal weapon, his breath catching in his throat.

Behind him, the voice of the figure came, it was steady and distant. "They called her a great many names: Godrend, Endbringer, Light Ruin, Oathbreaker. But me…" The voice trailed for a moment before Kael completed the words.

"I called her Ather'valis."

Kael stopped, his chest heavy as the name settled on his tounge.

"It damned the soul of men and drank the blood of gods," the figure said.

Kael's steps faltered as he drew closer. He could feel the extent of the blade's presence pressing on him, all around it filled with ancient, unmistakable power.

His hands shook as visions flashed in his mind—images of countless battles, of gods falling before the blade, their screams dying with them.

"Are you scared, Kael?" the figure inquired from behind him.

"Yes," Kael whispered, his voice was low. His hands still reached for the sword, shaking. "Because I'll fear a great many things... until I fear nothing at all."

His fingers brushed against the surface of the blade.

The moment they made contact, the scene around him collapsed, shattering like glass. The desolate wasteland faded into darkness, and Kael found himself back in the featureless room.

He turned, expecting he would see the figure once more, but what he saw instead was a young boy hugging his knees on the floor.

The child's shoulders shook as he quietly sobbed, his small frame trembled as he clutched himself.

His face was marked with tears, and from beyond the chamber door, Kael heard the faint, desperate screams of a woman—a mother dying for her son.

Kael knelt before the boy, his gray eyes softening as he gazed at the trembling figure. His voice was low, but it carried an unshakable resolve.

"Man, god, or celestial... it doesn't matter," he murmured. "I will bring down the heavens, and they'll all pay."

He reached out, his hand brushing the boy's shoulder. The child dissolved into smoke, vanishing into the air.

Kael rose to his feet. He turned and began walking toward the exit, his footsteps left in the emptiness. His gray eyes flickered as he glanced at the text one final time.

> ◇ Ather'valis, The God-Killing Blade, has been acquired.

> ◇ VoidBreech has been cleared, 15 minutes till collapse.