Gods Bleed, Too

"You hurt her. And now... I'll unmake your entire belief system." —Kaito

Sector 13 – Divine Ruins, Midnight

The warning came too late.

By the time the sky turned violet and thunder cracked without sound, Vermund's army was already upon us like a divine plague. Shadows bled from the sky as winged sentinels clad in obsidian armor descended through swirling rifts in the heavens.

Lysaria stood at the forefront, radiant and unmoving, her golden aura flaring like a dying star.

"Kaito! Stay behind me!"

"Like hell!" I shouted, unsheathing Kagetsura. The blade growled in my hand, sensing the blood to come.

The heavens opened, and they came—ten, twenty, fifty troops of corrupted celestials and divine mercenaries. Spells rained like comets. The ground cracked and screamed.

Lysaria raised her barrier just in time to block a wave of destruction. But it was fraying. Too much.

And then—

The sky wept gold.

The celestial battlefield was chaos—a ballet of fire, thunder, and fury. Lysaria was still holding the front, her light flaring with the weight of divinity itself, even as the corrupted legions of Vermund poured through rifts in the air like locusts with halos.

"Kaito, don't—!" she shouted, deflecting a barrage of celestial javelins.

But I was already there, fighting by her side, slashing with Kagetsura, parrying divine bolts, until—

I saw it.

A cursed spear forged in the Cradle of Hatred. Its shaft thrummed with pure malice, guided not by the soldier's hand—but by Vermund's will.

It cut through the air like fate, twisting around her weakened barrier.

"No!!" I roared, dashing forward—too late.

The spear pierced Lysaria just below the ribs. It didn't clang. It didn't thud.

It sank—like it belonged inside her.

Her body jerked. A sharp gasp escaped her lips.

"K-Kaito…"

She stumbled forward.

Then fell.

I caught her mid-collapse.

Time slowed to a crawl.

Her body was warm—but her light… dimming.

Her eyes—usually blazing like twin suns—were glassy with shock. Pain. Fear.

A goddess wasn't supposed to bleed.

But she was.

For me.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered. "I wasn't strong enough…"

"No," I said, trembling. "You were everything."

Her golden ichor stained my coat.

And with that final breath, her light flickered.

That's when the world ended.

I stood up with her blood on my hands.

My scream wasn't human.

My aura exploded into a pillar of black and red flame that tore into the clouds above. The pressure knocked enemy soldiers back, cracked the stones beneath me, and silenced the battlefield.

Even the gods watching from above… paused.

My sigil warped—shifting into a horned crest. My veins glowed with infernal energy, and ethereal blades tore free from my back like wings forged from hatred.

"You hurt her…" I whispered.

"So now—I'll erase every name you ever prayed to."

Then I moved.

No footsteps.

Just death.

I appeared behind the first soldier—his head gone before he knew he was dying. Spun, severed the next clean in half. Then hurled Kagetsura—now burning with god-flame—straight through three armored elites.

It returned to me like a boomerang forged by a devil.

The sky turned red.

Lightning writhed in reverse.

Celestial shields broke like glass as I carved through divine armor like it was paper. Soldiers screamed prayers—I screamed vengeance.

One fired an arrow of sanctified judgment.

I caught it in my teeth and spat it back.

Two others formed holy circles to bind me.

I shattered them by roaring.

Ten more came in formation—flawless divine symmetry.

I crashed through them like a meteor—ethereal blades spiraling behind me, slashing faster than sight.

I wasn't just killing them.

I was undoing them.

Each strike erased memory, essence, name.

I wasn't fighting mortals.

I was slaughtering symbols.

One final high priest raised a divine seal.

I lifted my palm.

A black sigil formed—then imploded. So did he.

The battlefield was a graveyard. The grass burned away. The stones were soaked in ichor and divine ash.

I walked through it all like a god wearing skin too small.

And when I reached Lysaria's side again, with her faint breath on my shoulder…

I had become wrath incarnate.

Far above, perched on an obsidian monolith floating in the void, Vermund observed.

Unmoved. Unimpressed.

"So... the vessel wakes," he murmured. "You bleed for her. And in doing so, become something worse than divine."

He turned away.

"But not yet. You're not ready."

He vanished into a rift of violet smoke.

Lightning struck beside me.

Eve appeared, blade in hand, aura boiling.

"Looks like you found your limit and kicked its face in."

"You bring popcorn?"

She smirked. "No, but I brought backup."

Behind her, portals burst open. Demigods. Mortal soldiers. Resistance operatives.

But they were late.

I had already cleansed the field.

My boots walked across the corpses of divine warriors.

I dropped to my knees beside Lysaria.

Her breath was shallow. Her hand trembled.

"Kaito... you're terrifying..."

"I learned from you."

She smiled. Then slipped into unconsciousness.

I kissed her forehead.

Then stood.

"No one... touches her again."

And as the wind howled and the gods above trembled, I became more than mortal.

More than cursed.

A God Slayer.