The Old Man of the Mountain—Hassan-i Sabbah—his figure disappeared from the arena.
Simultaneously—
"Fear not, humans. Should the malice of the gods descend, the Old Man of the Mountain shall answer the call and appear."
The words echoed through the arena—no, correction—they reverberated throughout the entire coliseum after his departure.
"What the—"
"He lost, yet he still talks like that?"
"Answer the call? Did Heimdall not tell him that defeat here ans true death, that he can't be summoned again?"
"Seems like he really didn't ntion it."
The gods' side couldn't help but mock the Old Man of the Mountain for trying to look cool even in defeat.
Thus, the fourth round of the final battle between humans and gods—Ragnarök—ended in victory for the gods.
And this was the fastest conclusion yet.
Excluding the few seconds it took for the two to approach each other, the actual clash lasted less than 0.001 seconds.
Perhaps even shorter, but so gods could only perceive it to that extent.
In other words, the opponent was instantly defeated by Lord Hades.
But was a wound like this on the neck enough to be fatal?
Perhaps Lord Hades' weapon carried so special additional effect.
Especially since Lord Hades himself is the god who governs death—maybe he inflicted a curse of death, where even a minor wound would steal the target's life.
"Uh, actually, Hassan-i Sabbah didn't die."
Heimdall's sudden statent silenced the entire coliseum.
"He rely broke free from the summoning and returned to history."
He cautiously added this explanation.
And these words caused the expressions of the gods to shift.
Lord Hades seed completely still—this familiar scene was just like the first round with Lord Thor.
Back then, everyone thought Lord Thor had won, only for his neck to be severed without him even realizing it before his head fell.
"N-No way!"
"How could this happen?"
The sa outco as Lord Thor?
However, this wound wasn't a full decapitation—it looked about the sa size as the one Hassan-i Sabbah had suffered earlier.
Moreover, the blood loss wasn't as severe as the opponent's, whose artery seed severed.
Most importantly, Lord Hades moved—he reached up and touched the wound.
This relieved the divine spectators, who had been terrified.
So, what exactly happened here?
Did the human representative Hassan-i Sabbah flee?
"It seems Lord Hades has won."
The God of War, Ares, clenched his fist excitedly and swung it through the air.
The human on the opposite side had clearly fled in terror.
If they were to face off again, the opponent's head would undoubtedly be pierced by Lord Hades' spear.
"No, this isn't right! Lord Hades' expression is all wrong!"
Hers, standing nearby, wore an even graver expression.
Lord Hades' expression wasn't that of a victor, nor was it one of dissatisfaction at the opponent's escape, as Ares had described.
Instead, it was one of contentnt—as if he were thoroughly satisfied with the duel.
In other words... had they truly fought to a draw? Were they evenly matched?
"Evenly matched?"
Even Zeus couldn't help but frown.
Logically, a battle between two sides could only end with one party's death—there was no such thing as a tie.
But the situation before them was perplexing. Both sides had exchanged only a single strike, with no intention of a second, resulting in a stalemate?
No!
Zeus suddenly rembered—Hades' technique of feeding his divine weapon with his own blood wasn't rely to enhance its physical attack power.
If, from the very beginning, he had been in perfect condition—uninjured—and had injected nearly all of his blood into the weapon, leaving only the bare minimum needed to sustain a single attack, his divine weapon would gain a special ability: the power to bestow [Death].
Once a target was struck, no matter how minor the wound, they would inevitably be marked by [Death].
Of course, if this strike missed, Hades would be left completely defenseless, like a fish on a chopping block.
So then, the vanished Hassan-i-Sabbah, though he hadn't died imdiately on the spot, must have realized he had been marked by the concept of [Death]. That was why he chose to return to history.
Did he want to see his own era one last ti before turning to cosmic dust?
"Huh? You want to confirm Hassan-i-Sabbah's condition? Is that it? Understood."
Heimdall, standing on the arena platform, received a call from Zeus and was briefed on the situation.
So... did this an victory belonged to the gods?
Then it was ti for him to resu his duties as the announcer.
Though, co to think of it, this match had ended far too quickly, leaving him no ti for live comntary.
"Does everyone think this was a draw? NO, let —"
"I lost."
Lord Hades' sudden interruption made Heimdall bite his own tongue.
But right now, the pain was the least of his concerns—those words were far too shocking.
"Uh, um, Lord Hades, what—what did you say?"
Heimdall cautiously sought confirmation, wondering if he had misheard.
"I will not repeat myself."
No one could see it—even Zeus had misunderstood—but Hades alone knew the truth: he had lost.
If we were to consider the purely physical exchange of that single strike, it could be called a draw. But what was attached to that strike was sothing the opponent surpassed him in.
The opponent's attack carried a conceptual curse-like damage of [Death], sothing even he, as the God of the Underworld, could not escape.
anwhile, the [Death] he had inflicted upon the opponent seed to sink like a stone into the sea.
The opponent appeared to have assimilated with death itself, possessing resistance to it, rendering his [Death] ineffective.
"More the embodint of death than I, the title of Hades would suit you far better."
Hades uttered these words with a sigh.
His gaze drifted to a corner of the spectator stands, where a frail-looking old man, his brother, stood as if a gust of wind could topple him.
"Forgive , Zeus. The rest is up to you."
These were the last words of Hades, King of the Underworld, before he was swallowed by [Death].
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