Rebirth of the Nameless Immortal God



A turbid breath left Dyon's lips as his eyes reddened. The castle hall became filled with an uncontrolled bestial might.

In that moment, the fifty puppets seemed to sink into the ground they stood on, the creaking of their armor overwhelming the once quiet atmosphere.

'Such Presence will definitely affect the flow of energy within the puppets…' The black-armored guardian thought to itself. 'It seems that I've underestimated this man a bit too much. To think he would have comprehended Titan will to such a level despite being so young. And Emperor Presence as well… He does have the capital to be arrogant. Unfortunately, this is nothing before Lord Creator.'

The four beast babies inexplicably plopped themselves down, crossed legged, as though they were preparing to watch a show. Sen even pulled out a ripe celestial fruit, munching away at its dense energy with a happy expression on his face.

It was then Dyon moved. Even without using Light type energy and lowering his weight, Dyon's speed was already comparable to a third order peak celestial. His body was too powerful, and his wind and spatial intents were too profound. However, this speed was nothing compared to him now. Before the current Dyon, mere third and second grade peak celestial puppets were nothing!

Dyon's black wings only flapped a single time, yet he had already appeared the first puppet. Speed backed by the weight of his body gave him an unfathomable moment.

"[Vanishing Fists]."

A seemingly ordinary fist flew through the air, almost as though it was a raggedy ship sailing the turbulent seas. Not only was its Presence in sharp contrast to its owner, but it even seemed weak and feeble. This sort of display was met by the silver-flame puppet's fist, but that was when something completely unexpected happened.

BOOM!

The ground beneath Dyon's planting foot shattered as the puppet flew backward into a swarm of silver-flame knights.

A flash of silver light radiated from Dyon body, reflecting his attacker's prowess back and doubling his own power.

The puppet crashed into the swarm of knights, blasting through the last line and careening toward the golden flame guardian.

'Parlor tricks…' The guardian snorted, reaching out a hand to destroy the puppet himself. But, before he could, something unfathomable occurred.

The silver flame puppet suddenly froze in the air, collapsing in on itself as though a blackhole had appeared where Dyon's fist collided with its body. Instantly, armor Little Rain would drool over for its hardness crumpled, folding like a wasteful piece of aluminum foil.

The clump that remained of the puppet fell to the ground with a devastating thud, causing cracks that melded with Dyon's own, spreading outward like the cobwebs of an ancient spider.

If the black guardian's eyes were visible, it would have been clear that they contracted. He had clearly felt that Dyon technique was a mere common grade one, how could it be so powerful?

Dyon's eyes were still reddened with the will to rip everything in his path apart, how could he be mindful enough to explain his prowess to an enemy? He simply didn't care, plowing through puppet after puppet as though they were side-characters in a play of his own creation.

"Big brother's [Vanishing Fists] are really scary. Ever since he reached the One with Self realm and incorporated spatial and time will into it, it's been his favorite fist attack." Sen said excitedly.

Back during Dyon's stint in Chaos Universe, he had settled into a realm of absolute depravity. In that state, he felt so angered whenever his opponents did any sort of damage to him that he wanted to pay them back ten, a hundred, or even a thousand-fold. His answer to that depraved feeling was his [Vanishing Fists].

The original concept of the fist art was to apply hidden damage to one's opponents. The so-called "vanishing" was actually the fist's power shrinking its radius to such a finite point that it would punch of a bloody whole into anyone who met it. At the Great Perfection realm, one would be able to concentrate their fists' might into such a fine point that it would seem to vanish entirely.

However, the sadistic mind of Dyon had the time didn't just want to punch one bloody hole into his opponent, he wanted his opponents to collapse from the outside in when meeting his fist. He wanted the center of his opponent's pain to be so focused on his one fist that they could only collapse in on it!

Thus, Dyon's [Vanishing Fists] was born. It hid such a fine level of tunes spatial and time will that it formed an irresistible center of gravity. Now that Dyon had comprehended time will with the third will level once more by relying on his Eternity Pupils, the might of this technique was devastating. In fact, it couldn't even be considered a common grade technique anymore, Dyon's One with Self realm had raised it to such a high level that even some Peak Heaven Grade techniques paled in comparison to it.

Whenever Dyon sunk into a depraved state and allowed his bestial aura to shine through, the might of this fist would only increase.

The puppets could only collapse one after another as the disdainful glare in Dyon's eyes grew fiercer. To think that such weak imitations of warriors would dare stand before him! He didn't seem to realize that let alone the third grade, these puppets could barely bring out the strength of a fourth grade warrior under his Presence.

In what amounted to less than ten minutes, an unsatisfied Dyon stood amid 50 scraps of metal.

"How disappointing." Dyon frowned. He thought he'd finally get to go all out, yet he was greeted with such an unsatisfying return. He could only turn toward the black-armored guardian, planning to test the limits of his strength against him.

If not for its helmet, the guardian would be sneering at Dyon's battle intent. Even if he was surprised that a saint could have such battle prowess, the pseudo-dao realm was on a completely other level.