CHAPTER 4

"Fake?"

Moyin laughed. "No, no, I don't do fakes."

She met Matrix's gaze, a glint of amusement in her eyes.

"You, of all beings, King, should understand the pendant's power. Oh, and in case your memory fails you, I'll gladly remind you how this 'fake' nearly killed one of your scrawny dogs just moments ago."

Matrix snorted, power simmering beneath his skin, preparing a sharp retort, but then the truth dawned on him. He didn't know the full extent of the pendant's power, only its importance. He remembered his father, and the former Se', nearly losing it when it was initially stolen.

A sharp grunt snapped Matrix back to the present. While he'd been introspecting, Moyin had seized the initiative, striking Se'mudara with brutal force. The angel skidded across the wasteland, carving a deep furrow in the ground. She had barely managed to deflect the blow with her great sword, but the weapon looked battered, and so did she.

Motes of light flowed from her mouth again as she groaned.

Her voice, strained but still echoing with authority, promised,

"I'll be back for you, vile creature. Trust me… I will "

With far less grace than her arrival, she launched herself into the sky and vanished.

"Now that the disturbance has departed, why don't we discuss business, World King?"

Moyin purred, her serpentine gaze locking onto Matrix. "Why don't you hand over the god-slaying blade? You really don't want me to hurt you… do you?"

"Hurt a god? I'd like to see you try," Matrix replied, his voice a low rumble.

"Careful what you wish for," she retorted, her smile as sharp as obsidian.

Suddenly, a scarlet explosion erupted between them, sending the World King staggering backward, momentarily blinded. When he could finally focus, he saw YS and Frenzy kneeling on the ground, a scarlet tendril piercing each of their chests. Moyin stood behind them, her hands resting on their heads, siphoning their essence, albeit very slowly.

"Tell me, World King… would it hurt you if I killed them?" Moyin whispered, her voice honeyed but laced with malice.

Matrix stared, his mind racing. He was certain that Moyin, with her natural abilities alone, couldn't easily kill ordinary godspawns, let alone his elite generals. But now, with her powers amplified by whatever had fueled the pendant, even he felt a tremor of apprehension. There was a seventy percent chance that he could charge in, engage her brutally, and emerge victorious, but their last encounter had taught him that Moyin always had a hidden card to play.

He didn't really want to fight, as he had other plans . She thought she was being clever, but two could play this game.

Matrix smiled, his expression carefully calibrated to convey reluctant compliance. "What do you want?"

"Now you're talking," Moyin purred, her smile widening, making Matrix clench his fist in feigned fury. "I already told you. I want the blade."

"Fine," Matrix replied. "It's not with me. How about I go retrieve it for you?"

Moyin scoffed. "Don't play games with me, World King. I'll be going now, together with your generals, of course. And if you value their lives, I must have the dagger stashed here before nightfall."

With a dismissive flick of her wrist, she vanished.

Matrix smirked. He had finally encountered someone who almost matched his cunning, albeit not his strength. But she was still naive. Her plan would have been far more disturbing had she not taken his generals along, nevertheless she would have failed otherwise.

What she doesn't realize, he thought, is that there's more than one way to skin a serpent. He had given his generals mental commands before they left, and they knew precisely what to do.

Matrix opened a portal and vanished back to his palace.

Immediately after he left, a dot appeared in the sky, steadily growing larger. A shadow loomed over the forsaken battlefield, and with a thunderous roar, he landed, shaking the very foundations of the world. The air shimmered, almost catching fire from the sheer force of the impact.

It was Dejebi, the giant, the last of his kind, a towering being standing over fifteen times Matrix's height. Beneath his feet were two deep trenches, gouged into the earth by his cataclysmic arrival. He widened his colossal eyes, surveying the battlefield. His eyes, deep as the ocean, held a mixture of awe and disappointment.

Gods fought here, not giants…

He thought.

Matrix reappeared outside his palace, his gaze sweeping for Phantom. He wasn't there, but the reek of godly blood assaulted Matrix's nostrils, immediately putting him on guard. His brow furrowed, but with a weary sigh, he entered the palace.

He was immediately met by a soldier, who collapsed at his feet, weeping.

"My liege, they came with a storm of enchanted swords, right after the soldiers you assigned to escort the citizens departed. They slaughtered us all. I only survived by chance, my liege. Their leader is inside the palace. I don't know what to do… I should have died with my comrades."

Silence descended.

Matrix's brow furrowed further, analyzing the situation. He had ordered most of his soldiers to protect the citizens of the Anchor Realm, anticipating a protracted battle elsewhere, leaving his palace vulnerable. The enemy, it seemed, had anticipated this and chosen to strike at the heart of his power. Why?

"Follow me," Matrix ordered, his voice like honed steel.

The soldier scrambled to his feet, disbelief edging his features . The World King had acknowledged him.

Matrix's footsteps echoed in the silent hall, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood. Corpses lay strewn across the polished floor – his soldiers and those of the opposition, all godspawns.

Godspawns were creatures crafted by gods using a specialized ritual. The strength of a godspawn depended on the power of its creator. His generals, for example, were creations of his father.

Matrix didn't know what his father was, only that he was far more powerful than any god he had encountered. His godspawns, then, possessed strength bordering on that of demigods. His soldiers, created by his father's younger brother, were also strong but the elder god no longer aided in their creation, and had advised Matrix against attempting it himself. Each dead godspawn was a significant loss.

He bent down, examining the corpses of the opposition members. They were clad in crimson robes, their weapons forged from bone. Those characteristics were evidence of a single faction:

The Cyfors.

Matrix nodded grimly and continued deeper into the palace. He had expended enough essence for one day.

He rounded a corner and found a figure groaning on the floor, one arm missing.

He approached. "Phantom, what happened?" he asked, gently lifting his injured general.

"It's the Cyfors," Phantom rasped. "They attacked… their leader appeared. I fought him, but my injuries… I couldn't defeat him."

"Say no more. You have given your all. I will take it from here."

Phantom nodded, relief flooding his pain-wracked features.

"Find the healers," Matrix added, his gaze assessing the damage to his general.

"Where are the others?" Phantom asked.

"She took them. They are unharmed."

"Understood, my liege." Phantom said, struggling to his feet.

Matrix watched him go, then turned his attention to the soldier who had followed him. In a swift, fluid motion, he seized the soldier by the neck, slamming him against the wall.

"Why did you choose to betray me?" Matrix roared.

The soldier's eyes widened in terror, surprise warring with the horror of being discovered.

He should have known better than to think he could deceive a god.

"I… I'm sorry! He promised me safe passage. I was about to escape when you arrived. I was… ignorant!"

Matrix's features twisted in disgust.

"You are weak. So weak it sickens me. There is no place for your kind among my ranks. A sharp blade is worth more than a thousand dull ones."

"Please…!" The soldier's plea was cut short as Matrix's hand pierced his chest, cleaving through bone and flesh. He closed his hand around the soldier's spine and then absorbed his essence, leaving him to collapse like a broken statue.