Chapter 1146: Chapter 1133: Feel the Weight of the World! Chapter 1146: Chapter 1133: Feel the Weight of the World! In the realm of Epics, there’s basically nothing to rely on. The greatest reliance for an Epic is oneself, but there are always a few exceptions.

Even within the revered domain of Epics, these beings have elders of their own kind who are stronger than themselves as their backing, and for most Evil Gods, these are entities not to be trifled with.

Because Evil Gods are mostly solitary, with no stronger entity behind them; some are even relied upon by other creatures.

Thus, at this moment, the feelings of the Desolate Evil God are mixed. Upon discovering his food snatched away, he had originally intended to come over and take a look.

If it was an entity not much different in strength from himself, then he would choose to negotiate, including but not limited to resorting to force if necessary, and take back a portion of what belonged to him.

Yes, just a portion, for the Desolate Evil God knew it was unrealistic to expect all his original food to be returned. No Epic would regurgitate everything they had swallowed.

Because he too had done similar deeds. Once, while wandering in the Void, he had witnessed another Evil God destroy the world’s defenses and was happily gnawing on the remains of the destroyed world.

Following the principle that the viewer should have a share, the Desolate Evil God directly demanded a portion of the world remains. After a period of contemplation, the other party agreed to his unreasonable demand.

Better to lose something than have nothing at all, they figured, rather than risk having the Desolate Evil God destroy what was so hard-won, they considered themselves unlucky and gave up a portion.

After easily obtaining a share of the world remains, the Desolate Evil God was not overly triumphant, for he knew the other had acquiesced only to protect their own interests and would have done the same had their positions been reversed.

Now, a similar situation had befallen him, and frankly, when such a low-probability event occurred to him, the Desolate Evil God felt exceedingly conflicted.

After all, the Void is vast, and the chance of two Epics from different races encountering each other in its expanse is astonishingly low, let alone stumbling upon an Epic in the midst of a meal.

When the Desolate Evil God realized the potential identity of the Epic who had plundered his food, his mood soured further.

Given the boundless Void, the number of Epics is pitifully small, and those within this domain who have backing are as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns, yet today he had bumped into one.

By this point, the Desolate Evil God had essentially given up on fighting for his interests, resigned to his bad luck, with no desire to engage in any conflict with this kind of being.

He was an Epic with an endless lifespan; as long as he lived, he had infinite potential. What did a stolen world matter, or the annihilation of hundreds of thousands of his minions? Given time, he could regain all and more.

As for the loss of face from backing down, sorry, but as an Evil God bent on destroying worlds, he had no concept of face. No Epic hearing of his deeds would laugh at him for this.

Knowing they cannot provoke someone, yet doing so over an illusory sense of pride, now that is true foolishness, and that would truly make one the butt of jokes amongst the group of Epics.

Boom!

The light that eradicated everything, familiar to the Desolate Evil God, burst forth again, a light like the previous one shooting towards him, obliterating everything in its path.

Then the Desolate Evil God repeated his reaction to the previous attack; he evaded once more, then just watched as nearly a hundred thousand of his Subordinate Army were lost to that same attack due to his evasion.

“Why?” asked the Desolate Evil God after dodging the attack, truly puzzled. He didn’t understand why Muria would attack him repeatedly. Could it be that this Titan, this child of dragons, wanted to force him into battle?

But what’s the point of battle? To the Desolate Evil God, battles were merely a means to resolve issues. What could this being gain by forcibly engaging him in combat?

The world the Desolate Evil God had infected and left defenseless had been usurped by this being. He had decided not to attempt its recovery, but to retreat instead; what reason did this entity have to attack him?

“Fight me!” Muria responded to the seemingly overly honest Evil God, clearly stating his intent.

He had no intention of labeling this conservatively acting Evil God as a meek Epic. The Desolate Evil God’s aura, concealing his form and manifesting a black mist with the wailing faces of countless creatures, clearly revealed what kind of being he was by nature.

This was a destroyer of worlds, a butcher of billions, who grew stronger by causing destruction. The only reason the Evil God appeared so conservative right now was because he faced Muria, an Epic.

If he were not an Epic but rather a Legend, Muria had no doubt that the ominous being before him would have already ordered his Subordinate Army to charge forward.

Because of his strength, this Evil God before him acted all honest and aggrieved. Without this power, Muria figured the creature would likely show him what it meant to be the nemesis of all life, the nightmare of every being.

“Battle is utterly meaningless!” Feeling the soaring battle spirit conveyed by the Soul Sound from Muria, the Desolate Evil God expressed great confusion. He couldn’t understand such behavior.

“To you, it’s meaningless, but to me, battle makes me stronger!”

Golden Light permeated around Muria’s body, and under its covering, his form seemed to grow even more colossal, to the point where it rivaled the world that surrounded him.

“I see.” Hearing Muria’s response, the Desolate Evil God finally understood why this being who had stolen its food was so insistent on battling it. Although there were still things he couldn’t comprehend, it didn’t prevent him from taking his next action.

“Stop!” Muria was both shocked and amused as he watched the Evil God’s actions, as it began to retreat with its Subordinate Army.

“I apologize, Titan and son of the dragon, I have no intention of being your enemy, nor any desire to fight you. To me, it brings no benefit.”

The Desolate Evil God issued a cold Soul Sound. To him, survival was the primary need, gaining strength was secondary, and his emotional needs were relegated to last place.

No matter what he encountered, he used this order of needs as a basis for judgement and then decided what to do next.

To the Desolate Evil God, engaging in battle with Muria threatened his first need—survival. Under such circumstances, the choice he had to make was without a doubt: he had to avoid this battle.

“Hmm, though you say that, I still must apologize.”

Facing this Evil God who was wholly cowardly, utterly lacking in the will to fight, Muria was surprised, but he still suppressed the urge to laugh. “This battle, you must fight with me. You have no right to choose.”

“Don’t be too presumptuous.”

“Presumptuous? I don’t think so,” Muria didn’t feel that taking action against an entity that had annihilated billions of creatures was too much, even if the billions of lives that Evild God had destroyed had nothing to do with him. Of course, Muria did not believe that striking at the Evil God was an act of justice.

As one who had once been a king, Muria would not associate any of his actions with justice. Everything he did was for self-interest, including fighting this Evil God.

Choosing to battle the Evil God was because fighting the Evil God brought no moral burden to Muria. He disliked Epics that caused Destruction, he hated all actions related to Destruction, and he abhorred the destruction of beautiful things.

Basing a battle on hatred, or rather, intrinsic enmity, was reason enough. Like Angels and Demons, creatures and the Undead, they never asked why they fought, as they were born archenemies.

And the moment Muria rejected the path of world destruction, choosing instead to obtain source power by saving the world, he became a natural enemy of world destroyers.

“Titan and son of the dragon, I have no intention of being enemies with you, but it does not mean I fear you.”

“Not fearing me? That’s even better. Come, fight me.”

Radiant golden light spread over Muria, and in the vision of the Desolate Evil God, this being seemed even larger than the world beside him.

This was not because the being’s body was increasing in size but because the world beside him was shrinking. The Desolate Evil God could clearly see everything that happened, and as the world shrank, he felt a strong sense of impending doom.

“What are you trying to do?” The Desolate Evil God felt more and more unease, as he saw the being bent on fighting, reaching out a palm. The world, shrunk to its limit, had actually fallen into his hand and was being cradled in his palm.

“Feel the weight of the world!” Muria, holding the world in his hand and making a throwing gesture, was adorned with flashes of Golden Thunderbolt. Layer upon layer of visible ripples of power spread from his form; he was experiencing a pressure he had never felt before, a novel sensation.

Crackle and pop!

An act of madness, even by the standards of Epics, occurred. Muria hurled the world from his palm. Willing to be used by Muria as a Weapon, the world left a faint trail of light in the Void and then fell upon the head of the Desolate Evil God…

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by Aunomay Read