Chapter 234: Vezgor’s Death

Chapter 234: Vezgor’s Death

Inside, Vezgor no longer looked like the strong figure he once was. He looked frail, like a shadow of his former self, slumped in a wheelchair, enduring Ignathor’s taunts.

"Still ignoring me, huh? You’re ignoring me even now? Do you still think you’re the all-powerful Pontifex? You’re nothing now, just a bug I can crush whenever I please," Ignathor snarled, his voice tinged with bitter anger.

But Vezgor remained silent, eyes closed. He refused to acknowledge the man taunting him.

Ignathor ranted for a while, but then a shift came over him. His face settled into a smug grin as he said, "Vezgor, do you know why I haven’t ended your life yet? Because I want you to witness the terrible fate of the one you’ve been protecting for ten long years."

To drive the knife deeper, Ignathor started spilling the secret that Vezgor had kept under wraps all those years. In response, Vezgor’s frail hand suddenly clenched into a fist, and his breathing became heavier.

Noticing this, Ignathor’s smirk only grew. "You really are the picture of a devoted grandfather," he mocked. "You betrayed the Moon Goddess, faked divine oracles, defied the gods, and even gave up your own longevity—all for her. And now, look where it’s gotten you." His voice dripped with twisted admiration.

"Enough! This is my burden alone. I’ll bear the consequences," Vezgor finally spoke, his voice raspy and weak, like it could break apart at any moment.

But Ignathor wasn’t done. "You may want me to stop, but I have more to say. You, Vezgor, didn’t want Scion to become the Pontifex because you feared that the gods would descend and strike down your precious granddaughter. You even hoped, foolishly, that the royal bloodline could shield her once you were gone," Ignathor said, leaning in closer, his words sharp as daggers. "But too bad, I made sure Scion took the role early, just so you could live long enough to see your granddaughter’s downfall."

Outside the hall, Arix bit her lip so hard it started to bleed, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face.

Ten years. Her grandfather had risked everything to protect her for ten years.

As the pieces fell into place, Arix realized that the time she spent in the previous world—what she once thought was a mysterious, accidental journey—was actually her grandfather’s desperate act of rebellion against the gods. He had sacrificed everything to send her there, to keep her safe.



The mysterious old man who had always lingered in her thoughts now had a clear, familiar face.

Arix’s emotions surged, a chaotic mix of tears and laughter, but she kept silent. She couldn’t let anyone inside know she was there.

She needed to hear the whole truth first. Only then could she have a shot at saving both herself and her grandfather.

"Ignathor! How dare you!" Vezgor shouted, his voice trembling with rage as he realized that ten years of his hard work were about to be ruined.

But with his strength all but gone, the thought of killing the arrogant man before him was out of reach. He couldn’t even send a message for help.

The overwhelming sense of hopelessness washed over him as he slumped back into his wheelchair, finally surrendering to the situation.

"Hahaha!!!"

Seeing the once-mighty Vezgor now broken and defeated at his feet, Ignathor let out a triumphant laugh. To twist the knife even further, he casually taunted, "Oh, and isn’t Scion about to become the Pontifex soon?"

Vezgor remained silent, lying limp in the chair as if he were already dead.

Ignathor didn’t care. Amused by his own cruelty, he continued, "Once Scion takes on the role of Pontifex, the god will erase his soul, turning him into a weapon to kill your granddaughter. They were close, weren’t they? Imagine that—being killed by someone you love. What a hopeless, terrible fate. I almost pity her."

"Feel sorry for her? Then you should just die!"

Ignathor’s smirk froze on his face.

He looked down, horror-stricken, to find a massive hole in his chest. Struggling to comprehend what had happened, he slowly turned his head to see Arix standing there.

Her eyes was glowing blood-red, her entire being radiating pure, deadly intent.

"You... you..." Ignathor stammered, trying to speak, but death overtook him. He collapsed to the ground, eyes wide in shock, He couldn’t believe his end had come so suddenly.

"Arix..." Vezgor called out weakly, astonished by the sight of his granddaughter.

Arix’s murderous look disappeared as she rushed to her grandfather’s side. She dropped to her knees and cried in a rough, choked voice, "Grandpa, are you okay?"



Vezgor struggled to lift his hand, gently patting Arix on the head with a faint smile. "I’m okay, my dear. You did well."

"Grandpa, don’t lie to me. You’re dying. Please, tell me how I can save you. What can I do?" Arix clutched his hand tightly, her voice laced with desperation.

But Vezgor’s body was already withering away, and Arix knew deep down there was nothing she could do to save him.

She frantically went over everything she had ever learned, searching for a way out, but nothing could stop the inevitable.

She couldn’t stand the thought of being powerless, of watching her grandfather slip away.

But unlike Arix, Vezgor wasn’t afraid. He shook his head gently, offering her comfort instead. "Arix, don’t be sad. I have no regrets. I’m actually happy because I’m about to see your grandmother again. I’ve been waiting for this day, waiting to—"

Before he could finish, Vezgor’s frail hand fell, lifeless.

Arix stared at her grandfather’s still form, his breath now gone. She closed her eyes as tears streamed down her face. She wanted to collapse, to cry out in agony, but Ignathor’s words echoed in her mind.

Once Scion officially becomes the Pontifex, the god will erase his soul...

The words slithered through her thoughts like a venomous whisper, driving her to bite her lip until it bled. Steeling herself, she knelt one last time before her grandfather, then turned and bolted in the direction of Scion.

There was still time. Everything could still be saved!

’Scion, wait for me!’

The ceremony for the new Pontifex’s ascension was held on the highest mountain of Imperial Nexus, a place of awe and reverence.

Arix, having been there once before, navigated her way through the winding paths and towering spires until she reached the site of the ceremony.

Pushing her way through the dense crowd, Arix finally made it to the altar.

The ceremony was already in its final stage, with everyone anxiously waiting for Scion to take his place on the holy throne—a symbol of the ultimate power and honor of the Pontifex.

"Your Holiness..." the officiant, noticing Scion’s hesitation, cautiously reminded him, urging him to take the final step.



Scion, however, ignored the officiant’s words. He stood there, staring coldly at the throne that represented supreme honor, his mind elsewhere.

’How absurd,’ Scion thought. This so-called honor had cost him everything. He had been abandoned by his parents as a child because of it. He had been forced to reject everyone’s kindness, push away those who cared for him, and deny himself even the simplest joys of life.

And now, this honor demanded his life.

Scion knew that becoming the Pontifex meant the end of his soul, a death far more final than any other. So, instead of bringing hope or love into his life, he had chosen to keep everyone at arm’s length—to avoid hurting them and himself.

With a weary sigh, Scion closed his eyes, the weight of his fate pressing heavily on him.

When he opened them again, his resolve hardened, and he finally began to move.

One step, two steps, three steps...

The crowd watched in tense silence, expecting him to take his seat on the throne. But at the final step, Scion did something no one anticipated.

Instead of sitting down, he drew a shining longsword from the Space Botton hidden in his sleeve.

"Your Holiness, what are you doing?" the officiant cried out in terror, fearing that Scion was about to plunge the sword into his own chest.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as they realized something was terribly wrong. All eyes were on Scion, frozen in shock as the scene unfolded before them.

But Scion didn’t drive the sword into his chest. Instead, he slowly raised it to his neck, the blade gleaming in the light, poised to end his life.