Chapter 437: Yield

3rd Person POV

Perseus and Curly are now exchanging blows, though it is very one-sided as Perseus is clad with lightning, any attack by Curly would have to make contact with that, and the lightning armor would shield him from a lot of magic attacks, and some of the spells that were cast at Perseus simply burned to oblivion as soon as his eyes made contact with them.

Curly fought back with an unyielding resolve, however, against the relentless onslaught from Perseus, the blows seemed futile, barely making a dent in Perseus' thunderous defense. With the power of God coursing through him, his vessel could reassemble itself or regenerate at a quick speed, but it wasn't enough.

He was battered and bloodied from the fight, and mixed in with his shattering body, he was in constant pain, he wanted to yield, but yielding would mean death. Perseus was an unstoppable force, His movements were precise, and calculated, as he countered Curly's attempts to fight back, overpowering the sentient clone at every turn.

Every strike became a silent plea for mercy, a desire to end the ceaseless conflict without surrendering his life, but nothing worked, Perseus didn't seem to want his death, the hit early sent him flying and he couldn't even see how fast he was, so...why has Perseus slowed down?

It was to give him a chance, to bring his hopes up, but to give him maximum despair and shut him down at every counter.

"You still have fight left in you, don't you?" Perseus spoke

Curly thought

As Perseus slowed down even further, a twisted grin curled on his lips, his eyes ablaze with sadistic pleasure. He relished the anguish etched on his opponent's face, savoring every ounce of despair he could extract. Each strike was calculated, not merely to incapacitate but to toy with the shattered remains of hope that clung desperately to him, the hope of getting out of there alive.

The relentless assault continued until the opponent, battered and broken, fell to his knees, gasping for air, his spirit shattered. Perseus stood over him, a glint of triumph in his eyes as he looked upon the defeated figure before him. He had achieved his desired outcome, reveling in the submission of his prey.

"Well, I'll give you a chance, will you give yourself up to me?" Perseus asked

"Never!" Curly retorted, "I am a god! I would never yield to the likes of you, if you want to kill me, go ahead!"

"A god, you say?" He circled his fallen opponent, tauntingly. "Yet here you kneel, broken and helpless before me. Your defiance is admirable but futile."

Perseus delivered another blow, not intending to end the fight but to prolong the agony, to shatter the very core of Curly's resilience.

"Your so-called godly pride blinds you," he sneered. "Your strength is but a facade in the face of true power."

"Shut up! I'm tired of listening to your bullshits, spew that shit to those sluts of your-"

Perseus then kicked him in the stomach, it wasn't strong enough to blow him away, but enough to disturb the mana circulating his body and give him severe pain.

"Submit," he demanded, his voice cutting through the haze of pain. "Acknowledge your defeat, and it will end."

But Curly, though broken, refused to yield. His defiance was a stubborn echo.

"Never," he gasped, each breath an arduous struggle. "I will not bend to your cruelty. A god like me won't yield to the likes of you."

"Your godhood means nothing here, you're nothing but a soul made from the remnant trash of mine."

"Trash, you say? I've made you, without my powers, you are nothing! You wouldn't have survived this far, you wouldn't know how to differentiate lies from the truth, you lived only because of me! Your arrogance blinds you," Curly's voice was laced with a mocking tone, "I am a god, born of remnants or not, you're the trash here."

With each strike that Perseus aimed at him, Curly's laughter seemed to grow louder, defying the pain and showcasing an unyielding resolve. Despite the overwhelming odds, he refused to let Perseus's words diminish his self-worth.

But the doubt crept up to him as his body was slowly rotting away.

"Yield and you'll live." Perseus said calmly and blowing away every angel and creating an electrical barrier while kicking him around, "No, I'll rephrase it, yield, and I'll end you."

The once defiant laughter now waned, replaced by a solemn realization of his impending fate. Each strike, each blow delivered by Perseus, slowly eats away at his hope. He gazed at the crackling barrier, his body aching and his spirit battered. The realization of his vulnerability in the face of Perseus's overwhelming strength seeped into his consciousness.

"I..." Curly's voice faltered, "I yield..."

And with that, something inside both of them clicked, something that felt right for Perseus, but wrong for Curly. Perseus was feeling good, euphoric even, it was as if a missing piece of his existence had finally fallen into place.

The author first used orgasmic, but I searched up synonyms and replaced them myself, and euphoric was a better option. I was totally not threatened by a female character who wanted to end my life when they heard that something else made Perseus feel that way.

|Poor author.|

Bastard, you're my boss, help me. This was your fault, to begin with.

|Shut up Perseus.|

Back to our story. After Curly shattered, his fragments dissolved and merged together into a small lightly glowing orb. Perseus, the protagonist, took it and put it in his mouth where he swallowed the orb whole.

In that moment, as the essence merged with his being, it was not just power that he consumed, but a profound sense of belonging, a connection to a destiny that had eluded him until now. The act of swallowing the orb felt like ingesting a missing piece of himself, a long-lost aspect of his identity that had been waiting to be reclaimed. It was...as if he regained his birthright.