Where the Legend Ends

Krysaos steadied his breathing... his gaze locked with the god he had sworn to kill. 

They circled each other on the deck of the Sugar-Titted Siren. 

Round and round they went-- watching... waiting. 

The grizzled bastard's eyes... they were serious. 

It was a little disappointing. 

Krysaos was hoping he'd be underestimated. 

He rotated his wrist, taking a small bit of comfort from the weight of his trusty rapier. 

There was a lot... going on in his body. 

He had a f*ckload of mana and, through the delivery system that was the Heart of the Ocean, enough postage to mail it straight up the sea god's arse. 

A regular human can't kill a god-- that much was obvious. So he borrowed some power from something neither human or... regular. 

Krysaos had... *appropriated* it from the cultists' Divine Guardian.